Justice: An Arbitrator's Journal
by Deadi1025
Summary: A massive Warp Portal appears above Earth and with it an Arbitrator who enters a Universe of Gods, Heroes, and Villains. The Imperium may have not existed yet in this time, but through him Its laws will be obeyed. Through Blood and Iron, he shall enact the Emperor's Justice whether the League or anyone else allows him or not. Judgement has come to those who come to harm Earth.
1. The Pilot

Act 1: The Pilot

The nightmare began when the Martian Manhunter, J'onn J'onzz, started experiencing a series of headaches while he was overseeing the Watchtower with Red Tornado and the Green Lantern, Hal Jordan. The other members of the League were back on their respected locations on Earth maintaining Justice and Order.

It was a no more than a nuisance at first.

"Is something the matter, J'onn Jonnz?" Red tornado asked monotonously with his robotic voice.

The robot noticed the Martian leaning heavily on a nearby desk with one hand while another held onto his temple. Large beads of sweat poured out from his brow and his veins were bulging out from his forehead. His eyes glowed red as he tried to use his psychic powers to hold back the sudden surge of pain that seemed to erupt from inside of his brain to no avail. He could do nothing else but wait for the pain to subside and endure it the best he could but it proved too much even for him. He collapsed on the floor and convulsing madly through a seizure while screaming loudly at nothing.

"J'onn!" Green Lantern flew to the Martian's side as soon as he heard the screams. He quickly turned to the robot, "Red Tornado, what's happened? What's happening to him?"

"I do not know." Red Tornado replied. "My scanners indicate J'onn J'onzz is reacting to a sudden surge of psychic energy emanating from an unknown source. Possibly one of magical nature. I am not sure. He requires immediate medical assistance. His blood pressure is increasing at an exponential rate and brain damage is close to occurring."

"Alright." Green lantern said and quickly shot out a ray of green light that covered the entirety of J'onn's head. The latter stopped had stopped screaming by then and lightened the hemorrhaging but remains to convulse on the floor. "Things like this is usually outside my specialty but this might just hold back the pain and save you the trouble of an aneurism."

He then turned to the robot.

"Red Tornado, send a word out to Zatara or Dr. Fate they might know a thing or two about how to patch this up."

"I have already. But it appears that they are experiencing the same occurrence and could not assist us at this time." Red Tornado replied monotonously.

"What?!" Green Lantern responded with shock. "So anyone with a latch onto magic and psychic powers is getting the same problem as J'onn?

"Yes and no." Red Tornado added. "Judging by my observation, I could surmise that they were not experiencing the same degree of pain as our friend, J'onn J'onzz, is. Which means that our location at present is near the source of this peculiar psychic disturbance."

"If that's the case, where is it coming from then?" Green lantern asked.

The computers surrounding them suddenly flickering back and forth from static. The lights were blinking on and off. The alarms from the ship's external sensors were blaring loudly at an invisible threat. Even Red Tornado was not spared.

"Experiec- _c-c-_ cing Tech _-bzzt-_ difficulti _zzzzz._ " Red Tornado sputtered. His body was reverberating and struggled to move about. "Anomaly- _$* &%#A-21e5hf. _Electro-o-o-o Magnetic Pu-pu-pulse ematating –bzzzzt _— 5445hdfc_..."

"What?" Hal asked in confusion.

Without warning, J'onn suddenly fell unconscious. He had stopped convulsing and had fallen silent. Hal quickly knelt next to his side and hastily looked for a pulse, fearing the Martian to be dead. To his great relief, the Martian had simply fallen unconscious but he didn't do it peacefully. He did so while breathing heavily with his bloodshot eyes opened wide.

If things couldn't get any worse for Green Lantern at the same time this was happening, a black hole suddenly appeared out of nowhere a few miles from the Watchtower.

In his years of service in the Hall Jordan of Earth, he had travelled to distant planets, stars, and galaxies. He has met and mingled with advanced civilizations both familiar and strange to what he could compare to his own home world in Earth. He has also witnessed firsthand the cosmic events that astronomers back on Earth could only hope to dream of. But he had never seen anything as breathtaking or as terrifying as a black hole that appeared out of nowhere and did so close to the Watchtower and the planet Earth.

It was as massive as it was bright as it emitted a purplish hue. The people witnessing this on Earth saw it as a bright star but instead of showering them with light and heat, the hole only brought them darkness and chills up their spines as its massive tendrils are the sky above them and darkened in a similar purple color.

It was akin to a hurricane with a massive Eye in the center that spewed lightning and fire. Hal could swear that he could hear it roar thunder and torrents of crackling if sound could permeate in space. Since it obviously can't. He was awed by what he called as a beautiful marvel of the universe but his heart sank at the same time as he knew that he and the world he had sworn to protect were now doomed.

Despite with all his will, his strength, and even with the power of the entire League, he knew that there was nothing that they could do to stop the onslaught the black hole will unleash to the world. It would swallow him, the Watchtower, and about half of everyone and everything in the Earth to the Soulless Void.

"I'm sorry guys." Hal said to his friends. "I can't say that we didn't have a good run. It was an honor serving with you, guys."

"And – _bzzt%# -_ you as well." Red Tornado replied.

Looking back to J'onn, Hal thought if it would have been a mercy for the Martian if he were to die here and now instead of experiencing the suffering and pain of dying inside the expanse of a black hole.

A loud eruption coming from the Warp turned Hal away from those dark thoughts. Flying towards the window for a better look, Hal saw the Warp throwing something out from its eye. A number of meteorites were shot out from the Eye like bullets past the thunder and lightning before a massive starship appeared. The likes of which was unlike anything Hal has ever seen. Hal could surmise that he was no more than a speck as compared to that behemoth while the Watchtower would have been no more than a pebble against that monstrosity. It was of alien make, but nothing he has ever seen from the alien civilizations that he has encountered. What was most notable about it was an Eagle's head attached to the starship's solid steel ram.

By his guess, Hal assumed that it was a starship of alien make but somehow looked surprisingly human based on its industrial and gothic architecture the ship possessed. But it was also one that was made for battle due to the numerous visible cannons and weapons that stuck out of its hull in every nook and cranny in the ship.

Fearsome and formidable as it looked though, it was in nowhere near any condition to fight. The hull was heavily damaged to disrepair with multiple holes and pieces breaking off of the body as it drifted lazily in space. It also looked as though that only front part of the ship had made it through the Warp since a massive chunk of the starship was missing in its rear and was spewing contents as it wandered aimlessly in space.

As soon as the black hole had released these from its depths it disappear into fine mist and disappeared without a trace in the black curtain of space as though it was never there. The drifting starship then set its course to Earth as it got caught by its gravity. Fire began to erupt both in an out of the ship as it entered the atmosphere. Its guns exploded and pieces of the ship broke off, sending more burning debris falling across the sky and aimed towards the cities.

Without a moment to lose, Green Lantern sprang into action.

"Tornado, bring J'onn to the medical wing and call the others in the League." Green Lantern ordered. "That starship may be out of commission but is still a threat if it crashes in heavily populated areas. I'm gonna try to stop that thing from wiping out half of the East Coast."

"Understood." Red tornado replied as he carried J'onn over by the shoulder. "I'll also calculate the debris' trajectory and have the others evacuate the populated areas."

"You do that." Green Lantern said before racing out of the Watchtower and approached the burning starship.

Hal began charging his ring and a mighty roar, he blasted a massive shield in front of the incoming starship. The starship rammed into the thick green shield but to Hal's dismay, it only held it for a second before the starship's ram plowed through the shield like it was nothing. Hal was thrown away the moment his shield shattered like glass then was struck by the ship at full force.

Thanks to his split second timing, Hal managed to set up a bubble around himself to stop the starship from smashing him to paste. Thankfully he didn't hit the ship's prow like the last one so his bubble shield did not shatter under the pressure. He was instead was rolled above the starship's top deck where he had to contend with the wreckage and towers that sent him bouncing around like a pinball. The searing fire also ate up some of the ring's energy as it clawed its way to Hal. It took a lot of his strength and the stress in concentrating to stop his bubble from breaking. But this did not stop some cracks from forming every time he hit something big. He was soon pinned down when his bubble crashed into a tower and the whole building fell on top of him.

"Damn it! I'm trapped." Hal cried as he struggled to keep his shield up as the wreckage were slowly stabbing into his shield. "Concentrate, Hal! Concentrate! Else you get squashed in here like a bug and that's no proper end for Number 1!"

" _Lantern. Hal, do you copy?"_ Hal's earpiece called out.

"Superman!" Hal called out. "Your timing couldn't have been better!"

"Don't worry about it, pal." Superman said from the other line. "The cavalry has arrived."

To the other Leaguers flying with him, Superman gave them their orders.

"Hawkman and Hawkgirl." Superman said to the two winged Thanagarians. "Be on perimeter watch. Destroy any debris that breaks off."

"Stewart," Superman said to the other Green Lantern. "Get Hal out of there and start pulling that starship back."

"Wonderwoman, Captain Marvel." Superman commanded to the other two heroes. "You're with me. We're gonna put a stop to that ship."

With all that said, the Heroes scattered. Hawkgirl and Hawkman went and chased after the burning debris. Superman breathed out a strong gush of wind at the ship and blew off the flames on the ship's prow. He then followed Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel who were in the middle of pushing the ship back from its ram. With their strengths combined, the starship slowly started to be pushed back out of the Earth.

The Green Lantern, John Stewart whizzed past and zig zagged along the past the burning wreckage and towers of the starship. He soon managed to find Hal from under some rubble with a bright green light emanating from inside. The latter's shield was still holding strong but not for long since it began flickering. With his ring, Stewart cut through and freed the trapped Lantern from the wreckage who blasted the rest with a powerful blast

"No time sleeping on the job yet, Hal." John jested with the other Lantern. "We still have a lot of work ahead of us."

"Sleeping? I was just wearing myself down so you could start keeping up with me, old man." Hal rebutted before powering up and flew off with Stewart behind the ship.

Hal summoned a giant green lasso while Stewart summoned a massive green net. Both caught the rear of the starship and together started pulling on it with all their strength. With the combined efforts of the heroes, the starship was slowly being pushed out from the atmosphere. That however changed when the starship began breaking apart.

A series of explosions erupted all over the starship both from the inside and the outside. These launched its fragments far and wide across the horizon. They all burnt into meteors and fell across the sky in speeds unimaginable. Some of these meteors were as large as buildings and the heroes could only imagine the destruction this would bring to the denizens below. It would have been apocalyptic.

"All Leaguers," Superman ordered. "Scatter about and destroy the larger ones. The atmosphere will take care of the rest. Now let's move!"

Superman used his laser vision to cut the meteors apart before flying in to smash them with his fists. Wonder Woman used her lasso to swing large meteors around collide with another. Hawkman and Hawkgirl used the same tactic only they did it by batting the meteors with their maces and sending them towards the other meteors. Captain Marvel summoned thunderbolts and destroyed many in quick succession while the Lanterns summoned massive versions of household tools like hacksaws or drills from their rings to cut apart swaths of meteors to bits.

Amidst the chaos, the heroes have all failed to see 4 ships escaping the massive starship. The silence of space and the heroes' attention to the meteors made it easy for these ships to slip from under their noses. They raced through the sky made its way towards the East Side of the Northern Americas.

Of the 4 ships, 3 were Valkyrie transport ships with twin engines flying in a V-Formation. The other one trailing behind them was a heavily armed Vulture Gunship with visible cannons on its prow and numerous missile launchers on either wings. The moment all the ships made it past the burning atmosphere and into clear airspace did the Vulture unleashed its full arsenal and began shooting at the other 3 ships.

One of the Valkyries was unfortunate enough to be destroyed by the Vulture early on with a few shots. The people inside the suffered a horrible death as they were cooked inside their flying metal box as it burned to cinder before exploding across the sky. The other two flew in serpentine as they tried dodging the unrelenting gunfire and missiles from the Vulture chased after them relentlessly. Their chase went on until they arrived in the busting city of Metropolis.

The two Valkyrie ships tried getting the Vulture off their tails by flying low and using the towering skyscrapers as cover while launching flares to repel pursuing the missiles. The Vulture had a hard time following its prey there and keeping them in its crosshairs. It scraped off a building or two through the narrow streets as it made sharp turns in the city. This send debris falling down on the civilians below. It also almost collided with or hit the News Helicopters who were so eager to film the entire chase.

Despite these obstacles, the Vulture Gunship did not relent. It continued unleashing a storm of gunfire at his target and had no qualms whether or not it struck innocent civilians, blew up buildings and demolished vehicles who got in the way of its prey.

One of the Valkyries soon crashed down the intersection when the Vulture launched a missile into a building and sent the upper part falling over the street. The Valkyrie plowed in and out of it and was sent careening into the ground. Damaged and a broken wing, it skidded down the hard asphalt road before coming to a halt just a few yards away.

Civilians and police personnel approached the ship to investigate but before they could go so far as a meter away from it, they were shot at by the vengeful Vulture. The Gunship unleashed a storm of bullets that ripped the aircraft to shreds before finishing it off with a missile that destroyed the Valkyrie in a towering inferno.

As soon as the smoke cleared, a dozen people were left wallowing on the ground. They were groaning in pain out of their bleeding lips and crying as they crawled about in the ground with their broken limbs. A few were fortunate enough that they suffered from some bruises, shock, or white noise along with some bruises. Others were not so fortunate as they suffered from burns, shrapnel injuries, and missing limbs.

The Vulture on the other hand did not save itself the trouble of watching the carnage that it had brought about. The smoke coming from the dead Valkyrie was still thick before it flew off to hunt the other one. It did not take long for it to locate the last Valkyrie which was no more than a dot on the horizon. The moment the Vulture caught it in its peripheral vision, its pilot sent its thrusters to full throttle at it.

The buildings between the two were still an obstacle so the Vulture halted its fire and instead opted to closing the distance between the two as it forced itself forward. The Valkyrie soon ran out of buildings and found itself out in the open above the sea. It didn't take long for a missiles to whizz past its head. The Valkyrie wisely flew low, a few meters away, from sea level making it difficult for the Vulture to keep its target in its gunsights for fear of crashing down in the water.

The same can't be said for the missiles though but the Valkyrie launched flares that sent the missiles harmlessly crashing into the water. The Valkyrie then fired at a passing oil tanker and left a massive explosion of thick smoke behind it. This blocked the Vulture's vision and prevented it from destroying the enemy before it made its way into another city.

As compared to Metropolis's aesthetic as being a shining beacon of progress and technology with its bright buildings, Gotham instead emitted a gothic tone. One that encased the entire city in shadow with its brooding atmosphere, and Art Deco and Art Nouveau style buildings that towering above the slums on its borders. The moment the two ships dueled with each other in the city, Gotham's Dark Knight flew in his own personal airplane, the Batwing, and interfered. He began his engagement by firing warning shot to catch their attention as he flew past them.

" _Attention undesignated aircrafts_." Batman spoke through an intercom _. "You are to cease your hostilities and land in the nearby Gotham Airport where you will be detained by the local authorities. Surrender or be shot down. There will be no second warning."_

Neither aircrafts responded nor did they leave any sign that they planned on obeying his orders. With that in mind, the Batman quickly engaged the two aircrafts. The Vulture Gunship and the Valkyrie transport were much slower than the Batwing so the latter managed harass it without retribution. He fired at them consecutively at both of their engines until they began sputtering out trails of smoke and both were beginning to lose altitude.

The Vulture instead went full throttle towards the Valkyrie and closed its lost distance from the airship and continued its unrelenting fire as it chased it down the narrow streets of the city. They flew in dangerously flew a few meters off of ground level almost decapitating one civilian. Batman on the other hand would have none of this and made for another strafing run behind the Vulture to finally take it out.

To Batman's surprise however and to his chagrin, the Vulture's pilot killed his engines and sent its aircraft flying backwards towards the speeding Batwing. Batman managed to steer clear out of the way but this left him vulnerable when the Vulture shot his aircraft's wing off whilst gliding in the air.

The Batwing spun wildly in the in the sky. The alarms in the cockpit were blaring incoherently around Batman. He struggled to regain control of the Batwing to no avail. His windshield was torn off of the cockpit and Batman found himself careening towards a nearby building full of civilians.

Thinking quickly, shot at the Batwing's broken wing with his grappling hook and pulled at it with all his strength. He succeeded in steering the aircraft away from the building just in time and Batman instead aimed its trajectory towards the lake on the far side of the city. He stayed with the doomed aircraft at the last moment of impact before ejecting from the Batwing.

Batman then opened his cape into wings and glided back towards the city. He then got himself on top of a nearby skyscraper with his trusty grappling hook. From up there he brooded as he watched the two ships reach the climax of their duel as no more than dots on the other side of the city. Miles away from him. Without a moment to lose, he jumped off and glided down and prayed that he make it there in time

With the Batwing out of the way, the Vulture was free to engage the Valkyrie. The latter had run out of bullets and missiles by then but it still did have its engines despite how damaged they were. So the pilot once again boosted towards the Valkyrie. It did not take long for the engine to soon break apart and caught it on fire. It even went so far as to explode under the strain and sent the Vulture crashing down below.

But before the ship could crash though, witnesses saw a red caped individual break out of his ship's cockpit and threw himself at the Valkyrie. He threw some an electricity emitting net onto the aircraft and latched himself onto it but not securely since he was still flailing about it like a rag doll. From there he took out his gun and fired at the engines one after the other until both were disabled and finally sent the Valkyrie falling towards the city's public park.

Before the wounded Valkyrie made touchdown, the man managed to jump off of the burning aircraft just a few feet from the ground. His landing wasn't so perfect. It sent him tumbling harshly on the soft padded grass for a few yards away from the crash site before coming to a halt. The Valkyrie itself skimmed through the soft grass and crashed into a fountain where it finally laid to rest. The marble statues were shattered to unrecognizable pieces. Water spewed out of it in torrents and drenched the fallen aircraft dousing the flames on it.

Sirens from the police and firefighters were heard nearby and were on their way to the park in a few minutes but the civilian bystanders were already in the scene. Though most were panicking and were in shock after witnessing such a heart pounding event, others opted to film the crash with their cellphones and calling for the police, while some actually made it their business to approach the scene and possibly lend the injured parties their assistance.

Do not condemn them for their stupidity here and their ignorance to the clear danger. These people were simply enjoying their Sunday weekend and did not know the whole picture or the gravity of the situation.

All they know was that there was gunfire erupting somewhere in the outskirts of town and that an aircraft came out of the blue and crashed into the park. Though some witnessed or read about the events from social media, none of the reporters, amateurs, or witnesses got a real clear picture of what was going on. It all happened to fast and most of the feeds about it did not have all the facts and most of the information fell under speculation. I wouldn't blame these Samaritans for trying to giving out a good hand.

Most of the attention were aimed towards the crash when the bystanders saw movement coming from inside the crashed aircraft. They saw a couple of individuals exit the vehicle with some slipping out from the windows of the cockpit. They were visibly in shock as 5 men walked out of the ship groggily and limped to no direction. Some fell to the ground the moment they made their first steps while others carried their comrades over their shoulders out of the smoking ship.

The civilians thought that these individuals were aliens at first but to their surprise, these turned out to be humans. Military by their guess based on their uniforms and body armor. Their faces were undiscernible from the blood, soot, and oil splattered on their persons. They were fearsome looking and did not look at all friendly when they gazed back towards the civilians. Some of the latter noticed that these men had the look of surprise after seeing them for some reason. The bystanders started moving away from these men once the word got out that they had side arms and weapons with them. Some of these men had used their own rifles as crutches to support their injured limbs.

At the same time this was happening, the bystanders on the other side of the park were witnessing a different scene. Before them was also a human and he lied on the ground whilst surrounded by a couple of civilians. They thought of him unconscious or dead at first but to their surprise they found this man to be breathing heavily before slowly getting back on his feet in pain. He stumbled a few times but when the others tried lending him a hand, he harshly pushed them off of him.

"Away from me, citizen" the man growled before spitting a glob of blood and stood tall for all to see.

To the surrounding civilians, they witnessed a man that inspire d both awe and fear. He was tall and imposing wearing a silver helmet with a long horizontal slits for eyes. It encompassed his entire head save for his exposed mouth that was visibly bruised and bleeding. He wore formidable but damaged heavy black and gray iron armor that covered every part of him. Each piece carried with it varying symbols embedded on them.

The helmet had a golden symbol of a two-headed Aquila embedded on its forehead. His pauldrons had the symbols of an enclosed fist sprouting wings. His belt buckle had the shape of a skull. His breastplate had a similar two-headed white Aquila symbol on his right breast but instead was colored white and on the left had the symbol of an enclosed fist between a pair of scales inside the Roman Letter I. Worn on top of it all was a long and tattered greatcoat of crimson.

This must all have looked so regal if not for the large amount of blood stains, caked mud and grass, or dirt and soot covering him. But nonetheless, none of the civilians would not have mistaken this man as anything other than a soldier but the question they had in their minds however was, for which army did this man serve?

A collapsible iron mace hung idly by left side next to a couple of handcuffs on his thick leather belt. A large pistol was holstered on the opposite along with a couple of packs and magazines. Strapped on his back was a round collapsible shield with a glass viewport and a winged skull symbol in the center.

They never got a chance to ask them this because they ran from him in panic the moment this man saw the people exiting the downed aircraft. Without a second thought, he quickly upholstered his pistol and began firing at them whilst limping towards them at a steady pace.

His every shot missed however. The only good it did give the assailants enough warning to run for cover against the bullets. Still dazed from the effects of the crash, the armored man's aim was very poor. His shots were either shot too short or shot too far overhead. Some however almost hit some of the civilian bystanders and blew up a large part of a tree.

By this time, his enemies started firing back. He was vulnerable to them since he was a sitting duck out in the open whilst the former had taken cover from behind the wreckage of their aircraft. A couple of bullets struck the armored man in the chest and one struck his injured leg on the upper thigh. This caused him to fall on one knee but before another onslaught of lead could be unleashed on him, he took out his shield and automatically unfolded to cover a larger girth just in time to deflect the storm of bullets headed right at him.

From there he reloaded his expended clip but instead of firing at the small targets entrenched behind good cover, he opted for something bigger to set his sights on. The fountain in the crash site had sputtered its last drop by then. The fuel and oil spilling from the ship had mixed in with the running water and had spread under the feet of every one of his assailants.

The armored man saw all of this and fired a couple of shots at the downed aircraft. A couple of sparks was all it took to set the bird aflame before exploding. The lucky ones were the ones who died from the shrapnel. The unlucky ones were the ones who wallowed and screamed from the flames as their bodies were burnt to the bones and their organs liquefied before spilling on the ground to be cooked.

One man managed to jump out in time and avoided the searing flames. Safe as he was, his arm was not. A tongue of fire licked his sleeve and caught it aflame. In his panic, the man dropped to the ground. Rolling on the damp wet grass as he wildly patted the flames off of him. Painfully tearing out parts of his suit as he did.

Once the last ember was finally snuffed out did he get up an tried to run away. Away from the burning wreckage. Away from his dead comrades. And away from the Silver Helmed wraith that was by now not far behind him. The man didn't get that far however. His leg had given way once it was blown apart from a single shot. This sent the poor soul crashing to the ground and made him screamed and was crying over his disembodied leg.

To the few bystanders in the area left and who were brave enough to witness the carnage, they watched the armored man approach the wounded man with his pistol leniently pointed at him. They half expected the former to finish the job with a well-placed bullet to the head but no. The man instead holstered his gun.

To their surprise and shock to what was to come, he instead took out his iron square mace that emitted a faint blue haze around the weapon's head and pointed it to the man on the ground. For the very few who were close enough to the scene for a better shot to film it with their cellphones, they heard the armored man speak with a heavy breath but still retained his cold demeanor.

"You have been accused …of the crimes of Sedition…Murder…and Submission…to the Ruinous Powers…in Heresy. You are sentenced you to Death. In the name…of the High Lords of Terra… the Adeptus Arbites… and the Golden Throne. I hereby honor myself…with your execution. The Emperor Protects"

With what strength the armored man had left, he raised the mace up to the heavens and sent it down at a mighty swing. The man's terror stricken face got blown up to pieces and stained the ground around them with blood, chunks of meat, and shattered bone.

Some of the blood splattered itself on the armored man but he did not make a move to wipe it off. Instead he took off his helm and knelt on the ground whilst leaning on his bloodstained mace. Not to rest his exhausted frame nor to give respite for his wounded leg. He meant this action to pray thanks to his god.

 _A spiritu domin ates,  
Domine, libra nos, _

_Oh, Great Father. Holy Emperor of Man._

 _This humble servant thanks you sincerely  
For giving this servant of thee another day to fight in your name  
So as to kill thy enemies and die in your name_

 _I beseech thee to give me wisdom, to uphold thy voice  
I beseech thee the will to uphold thy laws  
I beseech thee the strength to destroy thy enemies._

 _A morte perpetua,  
Domine, libra nos._

With that said, he put on his helmet once again and, with some effort, stood up to be greeted by dozens of Police officers from behind a perimeter of police cars, News Media with cameras on helicopters, and the curious but scared looks of the public. At the helm of all of this was the man himself, Commissioner Gordon.


	2. Downtown

A/N: Barely a day has passed since publishing and this story has received more than a hundred views and over a dozen Favorites, Follows, and Reviews. I thank you very much for your praise, your love for the lore, and your enthusiasm to read more. In turn, I will do my best to make this story Engaging and Entertaining for all of you.

Speaking of Reviews, I have deleted a series of Reviews made by an Anonymous User. With all due respect, the reason I've done so was because I found it unintelligible, incomprehensible, and was not any form of review that I am familiar with. If any, it was nothing more than unnecessary babble with some statements wholly not relatable to the story.

I am a fan of the Warhammer 40k and the DC Universe so there was no need for the detailed exposition and I believe that the readers are smart enough to do their own research or read through the story themselves.

With all that said and done, I present to you the Second Chapter.

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Act 1: The Arbitrator

Commissioner Gordon was a man with a high position in society. Namely the Gotham City Police Department. Yet he was someone who hardly does his work from behind a desk as is usually expected of such men. Like many great commanders in history, the likes of Alexander the Great or Erwin Rommel, Gordon preferred leading his men from the front. On the same field as his men and at facing the same dangers that they encounter in the dark alleyways of Gotham. Working his way up in the police force as a detective over the years had him do a lot of leg work as was required. Habits like that get harder and harder to kill as an old man. And that's what got him the front row seat of meeting the Arbitrator the moment the man first step foot in the planet.

Gordon was in a middle of an investigation in Uptown Gotham when the Warp Portal first popped up in space. But neither the Commissioner nor the other officers with him on the case however see any of the sky's lightshow because they were indoors dealing with a locked room murder.

"The victim was a middle aged Caucasian male." Detective Harvey Bullock said to both Gordon and to his record player. "Cause of death was blood loss due to an open slit throat and two gunshot wounds in the chest. No signs of murder weapon or shell casings. Signs of a struggle is visible everywhere except for the fact that there was no sign of any break-ins. Now the question is, how our perpetrator entered the apartment and at the same time how did he get out? Harvey Bullock, GCPD."

"Definitely not from the windows, I'll tell you that." Gordon said as he looked outside The Warp Portal had closed by then. "We're 20 stories up and none of the windows from here can open up. Save for the one in the bathroom. Not a single fingerprint found on the glass either. No gunshot holes on them either."

"You implying that our perp somehow managed to squeeze in through half a foot sized window, killed our victim here, and then squeezed in out through of it and disappeared like nothing happened?" Detective Bullock scoffed. "Now that isn't possible. Unless the mob learned how to train monkeys to do their dirty work for them."

A couple of Officers chuckled at the joke but the Commissioner remained stoic and pondered on the possibility. In a world as crazy as theirs is, something as odd as Detective Bullock's theory is not far from impossible. His train of thought was cut short though when a series of loud rumblings were heard from the other side of town. The other Officers and Bullock heard it too and looked out of the window. Before anyone could ask, Officer Essen came running in past the police tape.

"You have something for me, Officer?" Gordon asked.

"Trouble, sir." Essen replied. "Reports say that two unauthorized and armed aircrafts have made its way into our airspace. They've already wrecked much of downtown and are making its way up here."

"Well that explains the fireworks," Detective Bullock said. His eyes were still glued on the window as he watched the two aircrafts duking it out atop the skyscrapers.

Without a moment to lose, every officer in the room sprang to their feet and Gordon immediately gave them their orders as quickly as he could as he made his way out of the room.

"Take charge of this, Harvey. I want your findings on this case on my desk tomorrow morning." Gordon ordered.

"You got it, chief." The Detective nodded before putting on his signature hat and got back inside the room with a pair of officers.

"The rest of you, with me." Gordon said to the rest of the officers. "Have the other Officers be on high alert in their areas. I want our birds up in the air and keep those aircrafts in full view. But have them keep their distance and do not engage unless fired upon."

The police came running outside of the building and onto their patrol cars past a sea of panicked civilians and scattered to their respective locations. The streets were filled with a chorus of police sirens as they drove off down every direction. Gordon rode in with Officer Essen and raced down the road followed by a couple of police cars. The radio never left Gordon's hand the entire time.

" _Operator"_ The radio answered.

"This is Commissioner Gordon speaking. Deploy Fire Department to the nearest hot zones. Have the others be on standby and ready for deployment if theirs get hit. Have the Hospitals and medical do the same. Also have every police units be on the streets. God knows what people do when thing like this happen. Over."

" _Understood. Commissioner. Over"_

"Over and out." Gordon said. He then switched the radio to another channel. "Eagle 1. Eagle 1. This is Commissioner Gordon speaking.Do you have visual on the suspects? Over."

" _Commissioner Gordon, this is Eagle 1 speaking_." The radio in one of the police helicopters replied. " _Affirmative. I have visual on the suspects. They are making rounds in 33_ _rd_ _of Truman towards 26_ _th_ _of Roosevelt through a parking lot. Fire department is en route to the area. Over."_

"Take this left!" Gordon ordered Officer Essen who quickly complied and turned the car to the next street with an ear-piercing screech.

While the train of police cars were rushing through the alleys and roads of the city. The radio was constantly being bombarded by updates from the her police on the scene and by the helicopter pilots flying above them.

" _This is Eagle 4. The suspects are now tearing through 24_ _th_ _of Cleveland. Medical and Fire fighter units are deployed to that location. Over."_

A loud explosion was heard in the distance.

" _This is Eagle 4. Medical and Fire Fighting units en route to 24_ _th_ _of Cleveland were assaulted by the 1_ _st_ _suspect. Bastard used it for cover against suspect number 2. Jesus Christ."  
"I see some movement down there."  
"Operator. Operator. This is Eagle 4. Requesting medical assistance in the corner of 21_ _st_ _and 24_ _th_ _of Cleveland. Priority one. Multiple casualties. Get those people some help. We're going down there to assist. We'll evac what we can but send in help now."  
"10-4. Bringing down Eagle 4."  
"Over and out."_

" _The hell did they go? All units. All units. This is Eagle 1. I have lost visual on the suspects. They dropped in under the bridge and disappeared from my sights. Anyone else got eyes on it? Over."_

" _Eagle 3. Negative. 10-10. Over."_

" _Eagle 2. We have visual. Suspects have flown in to ground level in between the buildings. They are about to go through 18_ _th_ _of Grant. Over."_

"18th of Grant?"Gordon asked out loud in confusion.

Essen also gave him the same confused look when she turned to him. Both Officers then quickly turned their sights ahead of them when they heard a faint rumbling noise coming from the street ahead of them. Their car started shaking as the noise got louder. It didn't take long before the first aircraft, the Valkyrie, came barreling down the street towards them. They flew in by no more than a few feet from the ground.

"Stop the car!" Gordon shouted to both Essen and the radio.

Essen swerved the car to the side and stomped on the breaks hard to screech it to a halt. The other police cars behind them did the same but some didn't react so quickly and ended up bumping into each other. Commissioner Gordon and Officer Essen were whiplashed again and again as the police cars collided at each other and piling up down the road. The Commissioner lost his glasses and fumbled around for it on the desk.

"Get down!" Essen cried and pulled the half-blind Commissioner down with her.

The Commissioner would have lost both his career and his head if it weren't for Officer Essen's quick actions. The passing Valkyrie chipped on their car with its wing and tore off its roof with a screech of twisting metal and shattered glass. The hot gust of wind from its ear-piercing engines heated the air around them and almost threw Gordon and Essen out of their vehicle. Their seatbelts thankfully kept them from flying off to the street.

"I think it's passed." Officer Essen said after bravely peaked out of their wrecked car. With a laugh she said. "Guess you owe me a drink for this, Commish."

The Commissioner didn't say a word but instead harshly wrestled her to the foot of the car and held her tight under him. Essen tried struggling to get out of his hold to no avail. And before she could shout at the Commissioner for earning a sexual harassment case from her, the second aircraft came roaring at them, shooting out deafening rapid blasts that whizzed above them. Buildings above them were being broken apart and dropped debris all over them like rain.

Essen held the Commissioner tighter while their vehicle shook violently. The noise became louder as the aircraft came flying in closer. Smoking hot cartridges fell from the beast and crushed the asphalt road as it fell on the street in a messy trail.

Gordon saw that they were as heavy as stones and were crushing chunks of asphalt in the road. He could imagine it leaving large dents on the hood and roofs of the other police vehicles and shattering the windows. His own vehicle would not be so fortunate since it had no roof or windshield to speak off!

As soon as the Vulture soared above their heads, Gordon quickly went on top of the young officer and protected her from what followed. True to his expectations, the cartridge were as heavy as they were hot as one of them fell on his back. Gordon cried out in pain as he felt them burn into his greatcoat. Some even went so far as to burn his skin. He'd later on say that he was thankful that no one heard him scream that time due to the deafening noise going on around them. From the airship's roaring engines, the screeching gunfire, and the clutter of falling debris.

"Are you alright?" Gordon asked the young officer soon as he could finally hear again. The faint whistling sound in his ear quickly went away. He looked to the sky and heard that the two aircrafts were busy with their merry chase somewhere else in the city.

"Yeah. I think so, Commissioner." Essen said as she tried straightening herself out. She was largely untouched by the ordeal save for a sore throat from all her screaming and a shattered eardrum that was trickling down to her neck. "Thank you, by the way."

"I'm guessing that we both owe each other a drink now." Gordon joked as he found and cleaned his glasses.

"Is it a date then?" Essen asked with a grin.

"Get that ear checked out, Officer." Gordon said before exiting the vehicle.

He went over to see how the other officers were doing and was saddened at how they were as battered, bruised, and cut like him. Their cars were all also damaged but not to the point of disrepair - unlike his police vehicle – but all of them were thankfully still able to function properly.

Before he attended to them though, he took a moment to crack his back and grunted as felt the bruises and burns that formed on top of them. He then patted off a few pieces of glass from his coat then picked up one of the cartridges he noticed were on the ground. To his shock, he found it to be as large as a child's arm. He shuddered to imagine the damage the bullet it carried can do to a human being.

It was still warm with some smoke coming out of it but was cool enough to touch. He was surprised to see that the thing was intricately made with many symbols uniformly arranged on it. In the center of it was a carved emblem of a skull and under it was a hand written inscription,

 _Deus Imperator Vult_

Looking around, he found that all the cartridges had these inscriptions. All of whom were made by different hands and each had different phrases written on them. Some were biblical, some were curses, and some were offensive. But Gordon didn't dwell too much on this and quickly moved on.

"Is everyone alright?" Gordon asked while he pocketed the cartridge.

"We're fine, sir." One of the officers said. He had a hand holding on the bleeding side of his head. "I don't think anyone had anything worse than a few bumps on the head. I'm not sure that could be said for some of the boys. They're kinda still in shock."

"Let's - let's take a minute then." Gordon said as he tried lighting a cigarette with his slightly trembling hands. "For the sake of the other Officers. Get a smoke if you got them. In the meantime, I'll figure out what to say to the Mayor about getting all of you guys some helmets."

The other Officers laughed at the joke as they lit themselves a smoke. With a job description that would have you face off not just criminals and mobsters but also costumed villains with unbelievable powers and monsters of nightmares on a daily basis, Gordon knew how as simple as a laugh can lighten ones mood before they come facing off against hell. Even if it was only for a moment.

"I can't believe I'm taking a page out of that goddamn clown's book." Gordon mumbled to himself.

"You said something, Commissioner?" Essen asked. The medics managed to patch up her bleeding ear.

"Nothing, Officer." Gordon said in between puffs from his cigarette. "Absolutely nothing."

The moment quickly ended when Officer Roth came running to him with a radio in hand. Gordon's cigarette had barely only burned halfway through but he quickly threw it away like it was nothing to attend to the man.

"Some good news, I hope?" Gordon asked.

"I-I think so, sir." Officer Roth replied hesitantly.

"What is it then, son?" Gordon cried. "Spit it out!"

"It's The Batman, sir." Officer Roth replied. "Reports say that he has taken down the two aircrafts and they've crashed down in Gotham Public Park in the northern side."

"You heard the man! To those who still have their senses with them and running cars, let's get our asses in gear." Gordon said to the Officers who immediately sprang to their feet. "Deploy auxiliary units and set up a 3 block wide checkpoint around the area. Have all available units converge in the Gotham Public Park. Advise all to be on alert. I want Sniper teams deployed in high vantage point areas. Also call in the fire department to the area. God knows we're expecting something messy when we get there."

"Uh, sir." Officer Roth said. As compared to the rest of the other Officers, he stayed as he was. In front of the Commissioner. "Excuse me, Comissioner. Sir. But there's more."

"I know there is." Gordon replied and looked at him gravely. "Now while the other Officers are busy, how about you just tell me what the bad news is."

"Y-yes, sir." Officer Roth said. "After the Batman took down the two bogies, it got its wings clipped by one of them. Eagle 3 reported that he crashed down in the lake up in the North East Side of the city."

"You new in this Precinct, son?" Gordon asked as he made a motion for the Officer to follow him to his patrol vehicle with Officer Essen.

"Uhm. Yes, sir." Officer Roth replied. Quite unsure of how to answer the question. "I got transferred just a month ago."

"Then let me just to fill you in on something then, Officer." Gordon said in the middle of cleaning his glasses.

"Of course, sir."

"The Batman ain't dead, son." Gordon said with a sincere smile. "Being in the wrong side of a plane crash is just a regular Tuesday for him. He's faced worse and he's survived worse. Now don't worry about it and get back to your partner. We still have a job to do, son."

"How are you sure, sir?" Officer Roth asked. Still unconvinced.

"Because he's the Goddamn Batman." Gordon replied over his shoulder before entering his police car.

"You do know that you put too much trust in the Bat, right sir?" Officer Essen said as she started up the car.

"Nothing to do with trust, Officer." Gordon replied. "This city's gotta know that the GCPD isn't sitting on its asses eating donuts."

"I dunno, Commish. I sure could use a donut right now." Essen joked as she revved up the car's engine and raced down the street.

With a hard left turn, the fleet of police vehicles were now driving down the street next to Gotham Public Park and what they saw there was anything if not shocking. The whole place had already turned into something akin to a warzone with fire and smoke flaring up everywhere. Police who were already in the scene were in the middle of overseeing the evacuation of the area while another group of police were busy keeping a mob of curious onlookers from getting in. A massive black smoke was billowing out from over the tree line and gunfire seemed to be coming from the park's Marble Fountain in the center most area of the park.

Except, there was no Marble Fountain to be found by the time the hill came in their sights. Instead they found the Valkyrie. It had a busted wing and dug itself deep in a fresh nest of scorched black earth. Torn scrap metal with a few flickering tongues of fire were scattered around and burnt bodies were seen lying on the soft grass. Some of them were horrifically still trying moving their scorched limbs in a vain attempt to crawl away before falling still never to rise again.

In the center of it all was a formidable man in black and grey armor with a red colored greatcoat standing defiantly with an iron mace. As if the man looked fearsome already, his attire was also stained with fresh blood, bone, and brains from a man on the ground whose head was smashed to paste. Gordon assumed that the man had done this recently since the red still glimmered in the light and drops of it were seen trickling down to the bright green grass.

The Officers already on the scene were already more unsettled than before. Gordon knew that he had to act fast before things go way out of control.

Before even he disembarked from his 'convertible' police vehicle, Gordon had already began ordering the men to set up a perimeter around the crash site. His revolver never left his hand the entire time. Years of experience dealing with extraterrestrial and other dimensional beings taught him that 9 out of 10, they are bound to be hostile. Evidence by getting shot by them a couple of minutes ago does not give him comfort that those odds are be in his favor.

While the Police Officers were adding the finishing touches to their perimeter, the radio from one of their helicopters reported movement coming from their armored assailant. Every cop who didn't have their gun out upholstered them and ran to cover behind anything that hurts when you knock on it. Even Commissioner Gordon dropped his radio and aimed his sights on the armored man. To their surprise and confusion, the armored man did not make any move to engage them in combat. Instead, the man took off his helmet and knelt with one knee whilst leaning forward to the ground with his blood stained mace.

"What the hell is he doing, Commish?" Officer Essen asked as she got her shotgun ready. "You think he's surrendering?"

"Let's not jump to conclusions just yet. Keep the Officers on standby while I try to figure out what we're dealing with here." Gordon replied as he reached for the megaphone.

" _This is Commissioner Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department._ " Gordon spoke from behind the safety of his police cruiser. " _We have you completely surrounded. Get on the ground and place your hands behind your head. Surrender now or we will be forced to open fire."_

The armored man did not reply nor did he make any move to respond to the Commissioner. He retained his kneeling position didn't move another inch. Seemingly oblivious to everything that was happening to his surroundings.

"Gordon to Sniper team. Send a single warning shot at the suspect, Sergeant. Over." Gordon ordered in the radio.

" _Roger that, Commissioner."_ The radio responded. " _Warning shot inbound. Officers, do not return fire. I repeat. Do not return fire. Warning shot inbound. Over."_

"Roger that, Sergeant. All officers are on standby." Gordon replied. "No one shoots until the suspect is proven to be hostile. I repeat, do not shoot unless the suspect is proven to be hostile. I don't want to get ourselves into a possible war. Over."

A gunshot was heard from one of the buildings overlooking the park. The bullet struck the ground a foot away from the armored man. This must have had a particular reaction on the man. Gordon and other Officers held their breaths as they watched the man putting on his helmet before standing tall for all of them to see. It looked at them for a moment with its head turning left and right a couple of times. As curious as this was to some, the other Officers were busy keeping an eye on the bloodstained mace and the round shield it was armed with he was holding.

To everyone's relief, the armored man buckled his mace to his belt and collapsed his shield before hanging it on his back. He then placed a finger on the side of his helmet and spoke through an intercom for all to hear.

" _This is Arbitrator Nidarr of His Emperor's Adeptus Arbites."_ The man spoke with a familiar British drawl and his voice was firm with an air of absolute authority. " _In the name of the Golden Throne, I assure all of you that I come in peace. I mean none of you harm but not unless you give me reason to. All that I request is to speak to your Commanding Officer so that all that has transpired will be made clear to all evident parties. I await for your compliance."_

"What do we do now, Commissioner?" Officer Essen asked.

Her hands never left her gun nor did the other Officers. The possibility of this thing being a threat was still high up in the air. From 9mm semi-automatic service pistols, to Mossberg 590 shotguns, to a few with .357 Magnums, and to the SWAT teams with their AR-15 rifles and MP5 submachine guns, all 80 police Officers from Gotham's Finest had all of their iron sights and scopes were pointed to this 'Arbitrator'.

The ones near the Commissioner were looking at him with concern. Concerned with what card, Commissioner Gordon, would play to deal with this. Even the news reporters pointed their cameras at him since this mysterious stranger had asked for Gordon personally. The whole world was watching this very moment from behind their TV and Computer screens with bated breaths.

"Stand down. All units stand down. Have the Snipers keep an eye on him though." Gordon ordered as he made his way towards the perimeter. "I'm going in. **Alone**."

He said this to Officer Essen when he saw her making a move to come with him. She hesitated at first but ended up complying and held her ground. The same could be said to the other Officers with them. With a simple nod, Gordon entered the perimeter and started walking up the hill to face this peculiar man.

Working with the Batman over the years benefited Gordon in 3 ways. One was that it helped him rise through the ranks into a Commissioner in the better part of a few years. Second is that it made a difference in making Gotham a safer place for its people. The Third and most important aspect was that it got him used to dealing with menacing characters. Most notable example is the Batman himself. So dealing with this Arbitrator should no more than a walk in the park for him.

Midway up to the top however, the more he started to have second thoughts about that last part. The moment Gordon made the first step on his ascent, he saw the Arbitrator turn its head towards him and never left its gaze at him until he met him face to face in the top. From there, Gordon slowly began to realize that this man was a whole different kind of menacing.

Batman may have emanated fear. Especially when it came to the people close to him. The villains and monsters he's encountered in Gotham emanated terror. But this Arbitrator gave off something else entirely. Dread.

Gordon felt it the moment he got a closer look at the man and got a cold chill crawl up his spine. He was like a demon from another world towering over him as it stood tall with an essence of absolute authority. Its black uniform dripping with fresh blood, its torn red cloak dancing like flames with the passing wind, and its faceless helmet emanating a faint red eye on the right side of its visor looking at him and never blinking. Instincts however were already screaming in his head telling him to take out his gun but Gordon thought otherwise. It took up a lot of effort to hold it all that in.

"I assume that you are the Commanding Officer of this force?" The Arbitrator asked him bluntly.

Gordon snapped out of his trance and blinked himself awake to find the Arbitrator speaking to him. He now found him no more than a faceless man in a curious armored uniform with completely unfamiliar insignias on it. Despite this however, a faint feeling of dread remained throughout their conversation.

"Yes. Yes." Gordon answered quickly. "I am Commissioner Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department."

"Charmed." The Arbitrator responded with a nod and a serious tone. "I am sure that you have many questions for me, Commissioner Gordon, as do I. With the upmost fervor. But Protocol dictates that debriefings on events and matters such as this must be done in the safety of the nearest Fortress-Precinct or to the office of this planet's Planetary Governor due to the confidential information it pertains. And so I hold. I leave that choice to you, Commissioner Gordon. But I suggest you do it quickly as there is much to discuss. I await your compliance."

Gordon must admit that he was very much caught off guard by how things turned out. He was expecting this man to be anything but cooperative. But here he was, open and willing to collaborate with them for answers. Another surprising thing was what Gordon got out was the Arbitrator's way of speech. As oddly familiar as his accent was, he also almost sounded like a youth. Someone in their late teens or early twenties. These didn't stop him from being any less suspicious of the man though.

"Of course." Gordon finally managed to say. "Of course. We'll…uhm…make for the Precinct then."

"Duly noted." The Arbitrator replied. "Lead the way, Commissioner Gordon. We must make haste."

"Yes. But before we do though, _Arbitrator_ , I'd like to know first just who we are bringing over to the precinct." Gordon asked the Arbitrator sternly. "It'll make me and the other Officers feel more comfortable being around you and it would help make a small sense of trust between us."

"Hmmm." The Arbitrator pondered for a moment before saying. "I will not rebuke you for the lack of trust. But I am surprised that you do not know what an Arbitrator is."

"Oh, I know what that means, son." Gordon replied. "It must mean something else in your planet because I've never seen an arbitrator in this planet murder someone to paste before. In public no less!"

Gordon didn't know what came over him to raise his voice against this intimidating man. He was embarrassed to admit that his temper got the better of him. The Arbitrator's barbarism to the way he killed the men around them and treating it like they were nothing was just too much. It infuriated the grizzled old police Commissioner. This was something that Gordon will not stand for and he says, the hell with the consequences.

The Arbitrator was quick to rebuke him but not about the subject that Gordon was expecting.

"Executed." The Arbitrator corrected.

"What?" Gordon asked in confusion.

"Not Murder." The Arbitrator repeated. "Execution, Commissioner. For their crimes of sedition and heresy, I have judged and sentenced these heretics to death. An act that I have seen to do personally as is required of me in accordance of the will of the Lex Imperialis."

The Arbitrator quickly noticed that the old Commissioner still had a look on his face that meant that his words had just made more questions than answering them. He obviously had a hard time understanding what he had just said. So he set off to explain in words that the man could understand.

"As Arbitrator, I am a representative of the Imperial Law. The Voice of the Emperor's Will. A disciple of the teachings of the Book of Judgement. It is my duty to Enforce Order and Justice throughout the Imperium."

"So you're some kind of…Galactic Police Force?" Gordon queried. Even with the short description, the Commissioner still found so many questions than answers in that statement.

"Affirmative." The Arbitrator nodded after a second of pondering. "Something of that sort."

"Hm. At least you dress better than the other guys." Gordon mumbled as he pictured the Green Lantern Corps. "Let's escort you to the Precinct then so we can get the full story here."

"All Officers, 10-23. Be on standby." Gordon said over the radio. "We're bringing in the Arbitrator back to the Precinct for questioning. Do not treat as hostile. But attend with caution. Prepare a Police Escort."

While the two were making their way down the hill, the Arbitrator tapped the Commissioner on the shoulder. The two talked to each other as they continued their descent.

"A moment." The Arbitrator said. "You said in an earlier statement, 'this planet' and I am curious as to know what this planet is?"

"Earth." Gordon answered readily.

"Earth?" The Arbitrator asked. He tilted his head slightly as though to show the commissioner his confusion.

"Yeah. Earth." Gordon repeated. "Does that…mean anything to you?"

"Hmmm….Earth?" The Arbitrator mumbled to himself for a second before replying "Nothing at all."

"Really? You seemed so worked up about it."

"Yes. I was simply intrigued by the name. Being stationed in the Calixis Sector, I familiarized myself with the names of almost every major habitable planet there. Earth is not one of them. That narrows down my present location at a slight margin."

The Arbitrator chuckled for a moment a bit before continuing.

"I was pondering about the meaning of the name you gave this planet." The Arbitrator said. A small smirk appeared on his mouth. "I must really be in a far backwater planet if you natives would give it a name synonymous to dirt."

"Yeah. It is what it is." Gordon snickered. "But it's all what we got."

"Indeed. In the end, it all comes down to all that we have."

"Now you owe me a question, son?"

"Proceed."

"How old are you?"

Gordon couldn't help himself but ask. He had some guesses and got some hints, but he just had to be sure in the end. The moment he did, he quickly found himself looking at the helmeted Arbitrator eye to…visor. Expecting to receive an answer. To his disappointment, the Arbitrator simply said,

"That's classified."

He said nothing else after that. Not until they made it to the Precinct.

XXXXXXXXXX

Not that far from the scene at hand, the Batman watched everything that had occurred from atop one of the nearby buildings overlooking the park. He arrived too late to the scene due to the distance that he had to cover ever since his plane crashed in the other side of town. Even with the assistance of his Batmobile, it got him to the park just in time as Gordon made his way to meet with the Arbitrator on top of the hill where the Old Fountain used to stand.

A part of him immediately wanted to jump into the fray and engage the perceived perpetrator himself but in the end he decided to stay his hand. He instead remained in his position atop that building. The moment something goes wrong, he'll jump in to deal with it. But till that happens, he will stay and watch, wait, and listen. His earpiece allowed him to eavesdrop onto their conversations and heard everything that the Commissioner and the Arbitrator discussed so as to find something useful about the latter.

Except he didn't. The more he listened the more he ended up with more questions instead of getting any answers to the riddle that was the Arbitrator. The terms that the man said like, 'Golden Throne', 'Lex Imperialis', 'Emperor's Will', and 'Planetary Governor' just to name a few, left him at a loss and left him interested as to know what all these meant.

The Arbitrator and the Commissioner were making for the Precinct when the Robin, the Boy Wonder, appeared behind him. Not that Batman was surprised or anything. In fact, it was almost as though he was expecting the child.

"You have something for me, Robin?" The Batman asked without keeping his eye off of the train of police vehicles making down the street.

"Yeah." Robin said with a grin. "I found it in the other crash site a few blocks back. From the ship that shot you down from earlier."

Robin tossed Batman a small green leather book. It was an old and shabby looking thing with many small tears and scratches. Cluttered yellow papers were sticking out of it with some having burn marks stained on the edges. On the cover was a hand drawn symbol of a two headed Eagle and a pair of Scales with an enclosed fist in the middle.

"The cops were already on the spot the second I started searching. That book was the closest thing I could get my hands on before I had to split." Robin said sheepishly. "It was a split second decision. Sorry."

"Don't be." Batman said with a caring hand on the kid's shoulder. "In fact, this might just have the answers that I was looking for."


	3. Ambiguity

A/N: Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year.  
Happy it may all be, the work it took to make it so ate up a lot of my time. And I'm not just talking about my writing. But I do cherish any opportunity that I get when I do. It took some time due to rewrites but this product seemed the most satisfactory over the others. Tell me what you think in the reviews.  
A word of warning though, this chapter won't have the fireworks you might be expecting but it will set the stage for the ones that is to come.

Now without further ado, here is Chapter 3.

Act 1: Ambiguity

The battle against the fallen starship was arduous and no doubt intense. The skies darkened as it rained smoke and fire from the heavens. Lands were torn asunder as they impacted with awesome force and brought forth crackling seas of flame charred the earth all over the globe. The only thing that stood in its way of destroying a significant portion of the world was the Justice League who answered planet Earth's call. With them at the helm, the defense of Earth was swift and had only taken the better part of the hour for it to conclude.

The work was far from over however and the tasks that it required had stretched the League thin. A ground team consisting of heroes like the two Hawks, Black Canary, Green Arrow, Captain Atom, Aquaman, Batman, and the Flash, were found back on Earth overseeing their own assignments regarding the devastation that was wrought. Fearing that another appearance of another portal, a second team consisting of Superman, Wonder Woman, the two Green Lanterns, Captain Marvel, and Red Tornado stood vigilant in the face of the infinite black curtain of space.

The following hour was uneventful for the team. Even with the help of the Lantern's rings, they still couldn't locate a hint of an energy spike or any form of life for over thousands of miles. The black curtain of space was as silent as it always has for eons. Nothing but darkness to show the Earth's mightiest Heroes and an infinite number of swirling stars that envied any hippie aficionado who preferred living up in the mountains. The sun has already set behind the Earth's horizon.

Superman did his fair share of recon with his super-vision but like the Lanterns, he saw nothing important. A red speck at the distance caught his attention however. Squinting to get a better look at it, he found that it was Red Tornado flying off into space. Quickly reaching to his communicator, he tried calling for the Robot but all he could hear in reply every time from the channel was blurred static.

"Superman to Justice League," Superman radioed the others. "Red Tornado has flown off from formation. His radio is jammed. I'm going to see what's up."

The moment he took his finger out of his communicator, Superman sped off in a blink. He flew as fast as he could towards Red Tornado who already had a head start of a couple hundred miles from him. The robot was beyond anyone's periphery and would have already disappeared from view if it wasn't for Superman's supervision keeping him in view as he flew on. It didn't take long for him to catch up but by the time Superman caught up with the crimson robot, the latter had already stopped on its tracks. Superman found the robot hovering meticulously and regal. Like a Roman statue standing graciously in face of the vacuum with his eyes staring out towards nowhere.

"Tornado, are you there?" Superman tapped at the robot's shoulder. He was beginning to fear that his friend had become disabled like before according Hal Jordan's report.

"What can I do for you, Superman?" Red tornado asked nonchalantly much to Superman's relief.

"Did you get something?" Superman restlessly asked with a hurried tone. "You wouldn't have flown off all on your own if you weren't."

"Yes. I apologize for my abrupt actions but my sensors had picked something up. It is not much but I believe that it might be worth something."

"What is it then?" Superman asked impatiently.

Red Tornado was about to answer but paused when he noticed Superman's distress. The Robot's sensors suddenly indicated that copious amounts of stress was emanating from the Kryptonian and saw the possible reasons that were causing him to be more erratic than usual. In his naivety to human emotions, Red Tornado thought it best to comfort and assure him from his troubles.

"The reports concerning Metropolis troubles you, Superman." Red Tornado frankly stated "You have my sentiments. But that has already been taken care off now allow us to take care of this matter at hand."

Red Tornado was making mention of the news broadcast about the attack in Metropolis. The heroes only knew about it when they reconvened in the Watchtower in the aftermath of their defense of Earth. The accounts varied depending on the channel. News broadcasters stated that it was a terrorist attack. Forums in the internet stated that it was an alien invasion. While others just capitalized on the panic and laid claim to their own conspiracies and idiotic beliefs. Nonetheless, the main point was clear. Metropolis was attacked that left many casualties and destruction in its wake.

One piece of information was universal however and that was the part that it was all caused by appearance of the apocalyptic portal that appeared above the Earth and that the city of Metropolis has suffered many casualties in its wake.

"Thank you," was all that Superman could say beneath his struggle to stop scowling.

Superman was rather caught off guard by Red Tornado's sudden change of topic and reopened recent wounds. He was also quite offended by Tornado's lack of compassion and empathy when saying it. Superman however decided to cut the robot some slack due to its lack of possessing compassion and empathy. He also knew that Red Tornado meant well and was being a just friend to him in his time of sorrow. Who could remain angry for long over that?

"I'm just blaming myself." Superman sighed. "Blaming myself because I failed to protect Metropolis like I was supposed to do. I failed to safeguard my home."

"Only because you prioritized saving the rest of the world." Red Tornado stated. "The world is a big place and we cannot always be everywhere, Superman. Nor can we always protect everybody from everything and there will always be casualties in our line of work. The best we can do is to manage and limit that statistic from being unacceptable."

It would have been a very comforting thing to say but Red Tornado lacked the knowledge of the use of proper intonations. The way his tone never changed throughout that speech gave it less of an effect than its intended and actually made his message sound so ominous. Ever the boy scout who sees the good nature in anyone, Superman accepted Red Tornado's words in kind and gave him some form of peace of mind.

"Well if it weren't for you, none of us would t have a home to go back to." Superman said with an open hand. "We all have you to thank for that."

Red Tornado reacted to this in kind and finally turned towards Superman and shook his hand with a tight grip. A robot he may be, but Red Tornado isn't without a conscience and did not lack some form of emotion. As he shook Superman's hand, a twang of guilt was choking Red Tornado from the inside.

The reason being was that he already knew about the attack in Metropolis beforehand but did nothing to notify anyone about it from atop the Watchtower. Especially to Superman. Tornado feigned ignorance when the others heard about it and pretended to just discover it alongside them. Blaming himself for the grave error due to the scope that needed his attention for Earth's defense had helped keep up the façade and fooled the others to be none the wiser.

The Justice League was too few and its heroes were stretched thin to defend the Earth and he needed everyone to do their part for his plans to work. At the same time, he coordinated with the armies of many nations to assist in the defense and organized evacuations from heavy civilian populations that were far from their reach. It was a masterpiece of arithmetic calculations that no one but a robot of Red Tornado's caliber could accomplish.

The plan needed Superman most of all since he was the most powerful of them. But Red Tornado knew that Superman's love for his city would have devastated the rest of the world if he were to fly off to save it. To lose him was to lose more lives than necessary. Red Tornado would have none of that. His calculative and AI intelligence would have none of it. And so with a heavy heart, or whatever constitutes as one in Red Tornado, he coldly ignored Metropolis's cries for its savior for the sake of the rest of the world.

"I am sorry as well," Red Tornado said. It was all that he managed to say that saved him from any consequence.

"Right." Superman said. Suspecting nothing. "Now going back to business, Red. What did you find out?"

"I came here to investigate faint traces of raw energy emanating from this particular spot." Red Tornado gestured around him. "My calculations confirm that this spot here is the epicenter of the portal."

At first glance, Superman could see nothing around them. A closer look however revealed to him faded and shadowy outlines dancing around them like strings lightly blown around in the air. Or trails of smoke that rose from a blown out candle. They were translucent in color but some were in the light shades of red that slightly burned at the touch. It did not have the warm caress of a kindling flame but the stinging blade of an electric copper wire that digs into ones skin. A normal person would have burned sores and poisoned in mind and body by the raw energy but to someone like Superman, the pain was no more than a nuisance and a pinch that barely left a rash.

"That explains the heat." Superman looked to the sun that was nowhere to be found. "It's supposed to be around near sub-zero here around this time. Is it dangerous?"

"Indeed. It has been interfering with my internal systems but this is not like before. I am preparing upgrades to override it but I must make due for now. At least this is just a faint wisp as compared to the storm that the Portal has wrought."

"Any chance of us sampling this stuff?" Superman asked.

Reaching out with a finger, he caught a pale strand of the peculiar substance that began harmlessly curling around it. With his supervision, he observed this peculiar substance at a magnified level and watched as it made its way around to the tip of his finger. This strand then trailed itself into a ball and much to Superman's horror, it formed into a horrible, tortured face with a broken crooked jaw, and peering hollow eyes. If there was air in space, Superman would have heard it scream but this didn't stop him from imagining it doing so with an ear piercing screech. With that, he wildly shook his hand like he held something foul and disgusting.

"I do not have the necessary tools for that endeavor." Red Tornado pointed out. Oblivious to Superman's startling discovery. "This is a substance unknown to me. None of it is in my data base. By my guess, it is raw energy. On another, something else. Suffice to say, I cannot keep something like that in a glass jar."

"What are the chances…" Superman earnestly asked. "of something like that appearing again?"

"The Portal?" Red Tornado asked.

"Yes."

"If I were to be honest, Superman. I do not know." Red Tornado replied but added a hint of doubt in his tone. "Calculations are vague. Imprecise. But I believe that we are still in great danger."

Before Superman could react and before Red Tornado could say more, the two heroes were bathed in a bright green light as Hal Jordan came flying in towards them.

"There you are!" Hal exclaimed fervently. "Been trying to get in touch of you guys forever now."

"What's the problem, something came up?" Superman quickly dashed in front of the Green Lantern.

Even Red Tornado turned towards the Lantern to hear of his report.

"Ground team just contacted us." Hal said hurriedly. "Something very important. League meeting in the Watchtower. Hop to, Superman. Get your ass in gear, Red."

With that said, the three heroes raced back to the Watchtower together.

"Any clue what it's about?" Superman asked as he flew right next to the Green Lantern. Red Tornado lagged behind but still managed to keep pace.

"Hell if I know," Hal shrugged. "That's why we're having a meeting in the first place, right?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Most of the main roads of Gotham were in utter shambles from the aftermath of the climactic duel. The entire city was at an uproar. Cars swamped every winding street and labyrinth of alleys that blared a distorted chorale of ear piercing sirens. Accidents were common as people blindly tried escaping the madness and caused more injuries even when the guns were already silent. Worse, Gotham's people have also taken to the streets in many parts of the city.

Large mobs and scattered souls wallowed aimlessly in panic and confusion from what would be known to the media as 'The Purple Star Incident'. Most must have mistaken it for the beginning of the End Times. The Apocalypse. Armageddon. Many had swarmed to their nearest parishes and churches where they all kneeled in prayer to their gods for Penance and Salvation. They did so from the front of their altars to the cobblestone rocks outside under the dusking sky.

The other more practical and realist people of the population settled their faith by fist through many riots broke out all over the city. Even some in the spiritual community joined in the chaos as they climbed atop of their pedestals and claimed themselves as called prophets. Preaching to the masses their perverted beliefs. Calling forth purges. Fires to scorch the wicked. Water to wash the unclean off of their sins in repentance. Most prevalent of these occurred at the slums and in the rich districts where an orgy of looting and violence took place. The GCPD were stretched thin as it is as every Officer, Detective, and even the lowly Desk Jockeys all worked themselves to the bone to keep the peace.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As compared to the rest of the GCPD, SWAT Officers Crispus "Cris" Allen and Stanley Kitch were handling a more dangerous assignment, escorting the Arbitrator as their convoy made their way back to the Main Precinct. A task that neither Officers treated lightly and enjoyed. What made their task so dangerous was the fact that they were to do it while being in the same confined space of the Armored Police Van as the Arbitrator.

The two other SWAT Officers driving the Van also fell under the same task but at least they had a solid wall of steel between them and the Van's cargo hold. The only problems they are currently dealing with was the stress of traffic. Officers Allen and Kitch were literally sitting a foot away from the Arbitrator. Dangerously too.

As a security measure, the two Officers sat separately. One sat near the door. The other sat opposite near the window to the driver's seat. That way, if ever the Arbitrator proved to be hostile, he had to deal with them separately whilst leave an opening for the other Officer to exploit. It was a plan that they wordlessly set up for each other on the fly before climbing aboard.

Effective as this tactic may be, they were still technically exposed. The only two thing they had as- means of protection were first, their guns. Specifically their MP5 Submachine guns. Upholstered, primed, and ready to fire. The other was Gordon's word to the Arbitrator that he was not to be treated as a prisoner but as a guest.

This was something that didn't sit well for the Officers because this prevented them from confiscating this strange man's equipment and – much to their displeasure - his weapons. It was hard for all of them to see what the Arbitrator thought about this arrangement. His damned helmet got in the way of that and the fact that he didn't say anything in return helped shroud the man further into mystery. The only thing he did was quietly boarding the police Van before them.

A show of faith and trust between the two parties, perhaps? A ploy the Commissioner is cooking to catch this Arbitrator person off guard so they detain him easier? Officer Allen couldn't be sure. He has always considered the Commissioner as a hard man to read. A shrewd man. Unorthodox. Stoic in one move, then brash and bold on the next.

The best he can hope for was to trust that the Commissioner knows how to play his cards right. Especially since it was their necks being set on the cutting room floor. Their lives were hanging by a thread with their safety was held together by nothing more than a simple promise. Just how long that would hold to this Arbitrator - to this alien - this stranger - is still up for grabs.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A blue 3-D map of the Planet Earth was displayed in the middle of their meeting hall with multiple red dots were scattered all over it. The other Leaguers who weren't present in the Watchtower were shown in display screens that allowed them to be present. The only person that wasn't in the meeting was the Batman despite being the leader of the League.

This did little to err any of the other heroes however. They knew better than doubt Batman's commitment to the League. They simply assumed that the Dark Knight was in a middle of something important to the bothered with their current update and the rest of the League decided to start without him.

The crimson speedster, Flash was the one leading the update. A smoking crater was seen smoldering a pillar thick pillar not far behind him.

" _Kid Flash and I are in the middle of covering a dozen areas in the Mid-West and South-East Coast of the States, and West of Mexico. Hawkman and Hawkwoman are currently covering parts of South America. Captain Atom is looking into the ones in Europe. Most of it thankfully fell in the Pacific and parts of the Atlantic. Aquaman and his folk are in the middle of looking into those._ "

" _The Seas are a fickle thing. And despite ruling it all in the palm of my hand most of what she has slips what she has past my fingers."_ Aquaman stated. _"We've managed to retrieve a few whilst the rest were taken away by the depths_. _I had our findings sent to our science division who are still in the middle of dissecting them. I believe that your own scientists and personnel from Wayne Corps and Startech have these taken under their wing?"_

" _Yeah. I'm keeping an eye on them myself_." Green Arrow pointed out. " _But other Companies like Lexcorp and even Dagget are taking a piece of the action here too."_

"No surprises there." The Green Lantern, John Stewart, shrugged. "This is an international incident after all. No doubt other governments and private companies would want their hands on whatever these things are and have."

" _As a matter a fact, some already got their hands on them before we did_." Captain Atom said. " _And that's just us covering countries in the UN charter. There's nothing we can do or know for the ones that aren't for now."_

"Have we found anything interesting though? The crash sites?" Hal Jordan turned to Aquaman and Green Arrow.

" _It's too soon to say but as far as we know, we have nothing yet_." Flash said. " _Most of what I got here are burned up pieces of debris. Too damaged to find anything intact and nothing usable. But the one I found here in Michigan however…"_

Flash hesitated for a moment. He turned away from the camera for a second to compose himself. The other Leaguers saw a moment of sadness in the man's usually stoic aspect. Some, like Captain Marvel, wanted to ask what the matter was but was stopped with a gentle hand by Zatarra. It didn't take that long for Flash to look back at them and proceed with his report as though nothing happened.

" _The one I found. This thing behind me was a Module. A Chamber. A living quarters of sorts. What remains of it that is. Hard to say. But I found 3 bodies inside. One was burnt to ash. The other two were impaled by the debris. But that isn't even the most shocking thing about it..."_

"What is it, Flash?" Superman asked when he saw Flash having difficulty to continue once more.

" _They were humans, Superman."_ The Flash sorrowfully said. _"They didn't look it to me at first because of some of their artificial limbs but paramedics confirmed it. There were humans inside this ship."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The traffic was moving at a snail's pace. Cris saw Stan give him the same defeated look. A look that said that their trip was going to be more laborious affair and would take a while longer than they expected.

Surprisingly, they didn't need to trouble themselves with the Arbitrator as much as they expected him to be at first. The man was surprisingly docile. Cooperative even and simply spent most of the hour sitting still upright like a statue through most of the trip. His arms rested easily on his knees. Nowhere near any of his tools hanging on his belt nor to the large gun hanging from the holster on his side and a mile away from the knife strapped on his blood caked boots.

This did little to convince either Officers of this supposed civility however. The man may not be on speaking terms with them but that doesn't mean that he wasn't paying attention to them either. From under his helmet, Cris could tell that the man had his eyes on them the entire time. The fact that the man stinks made it more difficult for Cris to endure his presence

Cris was not saying this in any metaphorical sense. The Arbitrator literally stank. He could smell his musty scent of his clothes dampened by filth, grime, and guts that nearly burned the hairs in his nose even with the protection of his balaclava. Brown traces of dried blood was splattered all over him. Tiny pieces of bone and shriveled chunks were still sticking on him. It was a nasty piece of work that Cris could barely look at. Or smell.

" _I'm with you, pal_." Stan said to him over the radio in a hushed but obviously concerned tone. " _The guy's creeping the fuck out of me too_."

Wayne Tech was generous enough to provide the GCPD's SWAT with improved microphone radios for each trooper. Its most notable quirk was that it could pick up even the quietest of whispers spoken by its users for continuous communication especially when under Covert Ops Missions. The same perk can be used to discern the faintest of sounds like footsteps or heartbeats with a distance of a couple of meters away.

"Yeah." Cris hissed with a quick nod. "Even Killer Croc makes for better company than this one here."

" _Hold up a sec. So let me get this straight_." Stan tried holding back a laugh. " _A 7 and a half foot Leather faced brute with teeth the size of ribcages that wouldn't shut up about eating you alive is a better choice in a carpool than this guy here who's just giving us the stink eye?"_

"Yeah. What's your point?" Cris shrugged. "At least that freak's honest about what he want. At least I'll know what I'm in for. This Arbi-whatever –"

" _Arbitrator."_ Stan corrected.

"Yeah." Cris waved an impatient hand. "This Arbitrator guy, isn't. Hell. The guy hasn't said zip to us since he got on board with us. He's just sitting there. Like a robot. You think he's a robot?"

" _Don't think so. Because I don't usually stink THIS bad."_ Stan gagged. _"Hmmm. But the guy has something in him that's giving me the chills. And I only usually get that from the Batman."_

"I hear that. But at least Batman doesn't smash a guy's head like a watermelon in a Gallagher show. I mean, I've seen it. But I still can't believe it."

Cris wasn't saying this under the any pretenses of distress. That appalling scene didn't affect him as much as compared to the crowd behind him who screamed in terror and cried in horror. Working - and let alone living - in Gotham for years made things like that feel mundane due to how common acts of brutality are in the city. He only took that scene in the park as a reason, as proof, that this 'guest' in front of him is dangerous and so earned him a right to suspect him for the worst.

" _Your first time meeting an Alien isn't it, rookie?"_ He heard Stan say on coms.

"What?" Cris asked since he didn't hear the man right.

" _I said that it's your first time coming across an Alien, ain't it? Based on experience, all I can tell you about it is that they don't think much like us. The same way Hindus won't eat cow. Or Muslims with pork. You get used to these stuff. Even the bad ones. But that's not what's really bothering you, is it?"_

"I dunno, Stan. But I know that this guy has something up his sleeve. He may not look it but this guy hasn't kept us out of his sights since we left the park. He's up to something, man."

Cris saw Stan turn his head towards the Arbitrator for a moment before falling silent for a time. He saw his colleague fix himself on his seat then lean an inch forward. But did it ever so slightly so that nobody would have noticed him. This was a sign that Stan was taking his call seriously.

The boys back in the Precinct dubbed this 'Doing the Sherlock' like the TV trope from that British Crime Show. Some even started calling him 'Sherlock' much to Stan's chagrin. Cris had always hated that trope. Poor writing in his case. He has 2 autistic relatives from both sides of his family and neither of them could open a door without bumping into them first. Be it as it may, that stupid trope was the best way to explain his colleague's obsession with finding to smallest of detail to situations similar to this.

" _I got nothing."_ Stan finally radioed in.

"Wanna ring that by me again, Stan?" Cris asked skeptically.

" _I said, I. Got. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Nothing worth of note on the guy."_ Stan elaborated _. "Nothing hostile as far as I can tell. But…"_

"But what?"

" _I mean, the man is wearing a fucking helmet with a tinted visor for god's sake."_ Stan said unsurely as he scratched the back of his neck. _"You can see that, right? Eyes help piece these things together a lot easier but with that helmet on, I can't tell if the guy's sleeping or winking on me. There's not a lot for me to work with here."_

"So what's your take on it then?"

" _An 80/20 chance of us being fucked. But then again, I could be wrong."_ Stan despaired. _"God, I hope so."_

Silence ensued between the 2 men as they fell deep in thought. The only notable sound worth hearing from then was the rumbling engine that mildly shook the vehicle and the sirens blaring from outside. Thankfully those were muffled and toned down by their thick armor plated vehicle.

"How bout we…we deal with it?" Cris proposed.

" _The fuck are you on about?"_ Stan asked but he wasn't so sure that he wanted to hear the end of it.

"Us dealing with a problem before it becomes one."

" _I hope you're fucking kidding."_ Stan snapped. _"But if you aren't, you can go fuck yourself."_

"Our fucking lives are on the line here." Cris hissed. "Commissh is way over his head and trusting a hostile Alien for all we know. We might as well call ourselves expendable here. "

" _You're full of shit, Cris."_ Stan waved off an impatient hand. " _You're way too over your fucking head. Just calm the fuck down."_

"I'll be come when I get back home to my kid." Cris fumed. "What's YOUR fucking deal?"

" _We just don't know what the fuck is going on."_ Stan sighed but Cris could easily see some doubt in his look. " _We're just getting way too ahead of ourselves and we're thinking too deep on shit we don't know, understand, or deal with. All we can do right now is hope that shit doesn't hit the fan."_

This DID quench some of the rage that boiled inside of Cris. The fire that was burning inside his eyes, the same fire that was currently blinding him, began to falter. He then thought of a possibility that perhaps he is overreacting. That his intensions ARE selfish and he was putting their lives in jeopardy over something that neither he nor his friend could understand. That everything that he's looking at here is just his imagination running wild. His emotions going about unchecked.

Looking back at the Arbitrator however somehow rekindled that fire. He started to get angry and scared more than usual. Here was a silhouetted stranger. A murderer with literal blood on his hands. A stinking conniving Alien with god knows what under his sleeve. Cris treated the man like he would treat the gang-bangers and freaks he came across in the gutters of Gotham. With extreme prejudice.

"No." Cris pressed on the matter. "My gut's telling me otherwise and you know it hasn't gotten us killed yet. No matter what he or you or the Commissioner says. I'm gonna cap this motherfucker's ass right now."

"You're not making any fucking sense, Cris." Stan hissed in alarm. He subconsciously reached for his own weapon. But inside he wasn't sure just who he was planning on aiming it towards.

Before Cris could raise his weapon and before Stan could get in his way, a deep husky voice spoke from out of nowhere that stopped him on his tracks.

"The terminologies on this rock is…odd to me."

It took both Officers a short moment to realize that it was the Arbitrator speaking to them. The first time since they've all climbed aboard. It wasn't much but it was surprising enough for both of them to fall completely silent and turn their complete attention towards them.

"But a threat is simple to recognize, Officers." The Arbitrator said to them nonchalantly but with hints of weariness. "A very **grave** crime."

The metal seat creaked loudly as the Arbitrator began leaning forward with a hand resting heavily on his leg. The man then slowly turned his head towards them one at a time like something out of a horror movie with his faceless helm. Behind that tinted visor however, a bright red light emanated from inside the left side of said man's visor. The two Officers then felt a cold chill crawl up their spines and a stirring heat that was oddly stemming from their chests.

"With your backwater status and by your ignorance though. I **might** consider overlooking this." The Arbitrator considered. The red light behind his visor began to dim. "Just pray to the Emperor that it does not change."

He didn't wait for either Officer to speak before continuing with his tirade and made his point.

"And the feeling is mutual, Officer Allen." He said to the young man. "I don't trust any of you either."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A blinding light suddenly appeared in the middle of the Meeting Hall and bathed it everything in bright gold in a shape of a giant Egyptian Ankh. Startled as everyone were by the sudden appearance, none of the heroes stood from their seats or acted any way hostile to the newest arrival. The Golden Helmed agent of the Lord of Order and a member of the Justice League, Dr. Fate has arrived.

" **Forgive me for my tardiness but I have something that should shed some light in these current events**." Dr. Fate spoke as he floated down to his seat. His voice was powerful and echoed not just around the room they were in but also into the minds of those around him. He then piercing his shining gaze to the Martian. " **You've had the same seizures as I, correct?"**

"Yes." J'onn J'onzz replied. "I take it that it was no mere coincidence that you have experienced this yourself."

" **No.** " Dr. Fate shook his head before turning to the other Leaguers. " **None of what we have experienced were mere happenstances. The seizures were caused by the existence and the appearance of the very portal that has brought this visitor, this wounded Battlecruiser, into our Realm. It was a Tear made from pure raw psychic energy. One that does not exist in this plane of Existence."**

"So this Battlecruiser is from different Dimension? One where magic is prevalent?" Superman scowled. Magic has always been a problem for him and though he disliked it, never really felt at ease around it. Mainly because apart from kryptonite, magic was the next best thing that could kill him.

" **Hmmmm. Difficult to say, Son of Krypton. I can easily see that this Battlecruiser was made from materials of the Physical Plane. One such as ours. But I am unsure if it is from THIS particular universe. It has also traversed the Realm of Magic more than once intentionally it seems. This makes pinpointing its source more difficult due to the amount of raw energies that lay within it."**

"If it is magical in nature, wouldn't things like ancient runes or spells be written on it or be visible for something like that." Wonder Woman asked. "

" _Yeah."_ Green Arrow added. _"And that thing looked like it was built in an assembly line than from any holy temple or something."_

" **Magic does not always require trinkets or runes."** Dr. Fate explained. **"There are many ways to tap into it. But given the amount of raw energy that has stained the ship has made it difficult to discern its source even more so that I have so little to work with at present. I can only hypothesize that the ship must have had the technology to tap into and navigate through the Realms of Magic. A dangerous endeavor but not entirely uncommon. But without the use of any runes or spells is very peculiar. This is technology that I am not familiar with nor is it something that anyone from this world possesses."**

"But what does all of this have to do with the seizures that the psychics had?" Captain Marvel innocently asked. "What does magic have to do with any of this?"

" **As one who is the chosen champion of Shazam,"** Dr. Fate turned to the young Hero. **"I am surprised that you are ignorant of this field."**

"It's…uh…not something we managed to…uhm… cover as much." Captain Marvel sheepishly covered with an unconvincing chortle.

" _Fill us in either way_ ," Green Arrow countered. _"Some of us aren't too familiar with the mystic mumbo jumbo."_

" **So be it."** Dr. Fate acknowledged after some deep thought. " **This is a very sensitive subject and is difficult to take by the younger species. But I know of the gravity of the situation and choose it to reveal it too you. This is also a subject that has transpired for eons so I will keep things simple for all of you and the story brief. The Realms of Magic - and the many names it is associated with - is a dimension of pure psychic energy that courses throughout the many dimensions even in the Material Universes to a certain degree**. **Some believe it to be the direct result of first existence of sentience in the Universe. Others believe that it was created from the very first thought and belief. Only to flourish in the Eons."**

The Heroes listening in were awed as by this revelation and possible truth of their very existence but no one was as awed nor was as shocked by this Revelation more than the Amazonian, Wonder Woman. Amidst the Justice League's roster, one may consider her to be the most religious one of them all. After all, she was born out of clay by her mother in Themyscira and was given life by the All-Father, Zeus. She was technically a demi god. A devout one too as she prayed to them for wisdom and called onto them for strength.

Her entire life was based upon her warrior culture of faith. But to hear of this supposed truth was by the Lord of Order was hard to take in. She considered it preposterous. Heretical even as it went against all that she believed and stood for. A part of her wanted to argue against that idea. Another wanted to raise her sword against the blasphemer. Instead she decided to listen as wisdom dictated and learn more on what was unknown. But she did so while refusing it to be facts that were meant to be believed.

" **In either course,** " Dr. Fate continued, oblivious to the thoughts purveyed by the others, " **it is directly linked to the minds of every sentient being in existence. The Tear between the Realm of Magic and Material Plane has spewed out its raw psychic energies that poured unchecked into this Universe. The influx of such power caused a psychic backlash that affected every sentient species near it in many and in different ways. But none of its effects are more felt and more potent as compared to ones that possesses psychic powers and to those familiar to the mystic arts. Painfully so, if I may add. My Host, Kent Nelson, was fortunate that he had the Helmet on else he would not have been able to have survived the experience. "**

Kent Nelson was the oldest member of the League and the current host to the Golden Helmet where the Lord of Order, Nabu, presided. A man pushing in his 90's but nonetheless was still a powerful mage in his own right. Nabu in turn though a powerful entity could not exist in the Material Plane alone. Together, the two become Dr. Fate.

Turning to J'onn J'onzz, Dr. Fate said, " **It is a miracle by its own right that you have managed to survive despite being in such close proximity to the Tear."**

"I have none but Hal Jordan to thank for aiding me through the encounter. But what of Mars?" J'onn asked in alarm. "Every Martians is a natural psychic."

J'onn shuddered at the thought of entire populations of Martians being laid to waste from the aftermath of the psychic backlash. Their entire lives revolved around their psychic powers and telepathy down to the youngest of their broods. No doubt that his people would have been gravelly affected by the appearance of the Tear.

"I don't think they'll be in that much heat, J'onn." Stewart confidently affirmed the Martian with a hearty pat in the back. "Like the good doctor said, the portal only affected the closest thing around it. Mars is over 200 million miles away from it. I bet that all they got back there is a mild headache. The same type you get when you get stuck in traffic."

The other Heroes nodded to the Martian in show of approval. J'onn however was unconvinced. He turned to Dr. Fate with a concerned look.

" **The Green Lantern's statement holds merit."** Dr. Fate answered without hesitation.

Deep inside the crevices of his mind however, Dr. Fate had some doubts. This energy that he felt was knew that the effects of this Tear would have still been catastrophic for the Martians but as for how, even Nabu was unsure.

"Thank you, Dr. Fate" J'onn breathed out a sigh of relief.

Dr. Fate could only nod in return. But deep inside the crevices of his mind, Dr. Fate had some doubts. Raw psychic energy was chaotic in nature. Despite the distance from the epicenter the effects of the Tear would still have been felt by the telepathically inclined Martians indefinitely. For better or worse, Dr. Fate could foresee dire repercussions from this.

Dr. Fate was about to say this to the Martian but somehow, the elderly Kent Nelson reached out from his subconscious and spoke a different truth in turn. The man felt that his friend, J'onn, has already gone through too much and a little bit of hope could help the Martian go through with such a traumatic experience.

Nabu, begrudgingly agreed and let go of the matter.

"I think that I speak for everyone when I ask, where is the source of the Tear, Fate?" Superman asked.

"And will it be a threat to us?" Wonder Woman added.

" **It came from somewhere I dare not cross again. A place of terror and madness beyond any hell you could ever imagine. A dimension of pure Evil and where all Demons lie."** Dr. Fate spoke grimly. " **The Realm of Chaos."**

Dr. Fate paused after speaking these words for good reason. The revelations that he has revealed were already too much for the other heroes to process in short time. Information that is difficult to swallow due to their already existing dogmas and beliefs. If he was not careful in how he handled this situation, it would lead to dissention and chaos within the ranks of the League.

The Lords of Order may not always be on the same side of the League, even go as far as to challenge them at times, but they at least know of its importance in fighting against Chaos in this particular reality. Nabu and Nelson knows of this all too well and they will do all that they can to maintain harmony amidst the League. Even more so because of what he said next.

" **The appearance of that ship into our Plane of Existence has opened the door between our Universe and theirs. Further linking the two and had allowed its taint to spread here. To what degree, I do not know. But I do know is that the world, no. This universe will need the Justice League now more than ever. To battle the evil that has begun its reign of corruption."**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"How'd you—" Cris started but was quickly cut short by the Arbitrator.

"This thing isn't just for show, you know." The man tapped on his helmet. "Tap into communication devices with it. An easy task. Especially with your primitive technology."

"So you've heard… heard everything then?" Stan asked. His hands were slightly trembling.

"Everything." The Arbitrator nodded while his crimson eye kept shining brightly on them.

"That there's called an invasion of privacy in these parts, you know." Stan dared himself to point out. "And seeing as you're not from here—"

"Please." The Arbitrator scoffed. "Your rights for privacy is the last thing in my mind."

"Now I'd suggest you keep your pet mutt on a leash, Officer Kitch." The Arbitrator continued before any of the two could come up with a word in reply. He spoke to Officer Kitch while motioning to Officer Allen on the other side of the van. "Less his brat grows up without a father."

Cris had some doubts about shooting the Arbitrator before but mention his kid, then all bets are off. The chance of taking things peacefully just flied out of the window. The moment he heard the Arbitrator use his son in that threat, he already raised his gun at the man. The Arbitrator quickly grabbed onto his own pistol but Cris knew that by the time the man could shoot back, he would have already drowned him in lead bullets.

But before he could make any of that into a reality, Stan quickly jumped in between both of them with his arms raised at both of them. Selfless as the act may seem, it only pissed off Cris even more since his friend got in the way of his crosshairs and now couldn't fire.

"Wait. Wait. Wait. WAIT! Let's just take a moment to try to calm the FUCK down!" Stan cried out before turning to Cris. "Cris. Buddy. You're being stupid again. And you know what happens when you get stupid. I'm not sure I can fucking talk our way out of this one, pal!"

"Get the fuck out of the way, Stan." Cris gritted his teeth. "You're getting the both of us killed!"

"Fuck you, YOU'RE gonna get us killed." Stan retorted. "Now stand the fuck down. You don't know what you're doing you dumbass."

"Speak for yourself." Cris snarled viciously.

"Listen to me, Cris! Just fucking LISTEN!" Stan hissed in desperation. "I'm just following the Commissioner's orders, Cris."

"Kiss-ass." Stan snarked back.

"And so should you, Cris!" Stan pleaded loudly. His paper thin patience was at its peak. "You're a cop remember! Now fucking act like one!"

This pressed some buttons on the young Officer. Cris's hands faltered for a moment but his stubbornness and distrust of the Alien made his will to see reason weak.

"I advise that you listen to your friend, Officer." The Arbitrator said from behind and unintentionally fanned the flames even bigger.

"You got no fucking say in this, you." Cris spat.

"I do as a matter a fact." The Arbitrator countered. "You ARE pointing your weapon at me, after all. A serious offence."

The Arbitrator followed this with him scratching his head with a massive gun to point out to them that he was now armed. Cris only saw a glimpse of it but it was easy to say that it was a fearsome looking chrome revolver twice the size of any service revolver they have in the force. It was a rectangular shaped compact weapon with two non-identical long barrels arranged vertically with the bottom barrel being twice the size than the one on the top. The barrel on the top had a muzzle break attachment. But instead of pointing the weapon at him though, the Arbitrator curiously let it hang lazily on his hand.

"I commend you for the honor you give to your uniform, Officer Kitch." The Arbitrator flatly complemented but this did little to betray his sincerity. "Now allow me to deal with the one who tarnished his."

Cris saw that the Arbitrator's pistol was a break action weapon that opened by a hinge. The man was in the middle of checking the gun's bullets that could carry up to 8 large caliber rounds before snapping the gun shut and pointed it at Cris. But much to the Arbitrator's dismay, Stan got in the way of this too.

"I…I can't do that." Stan stammered in the face of the massive gun pointed at him. "Now we…we can talk about this like civilized people. We can work something out now and…and make it back to the precinct in one piece. You have something to say to the Commissioner, right?"

"By 'can't' I presume that you 'won't' then?" The Arbitrator ignored the man's banter. Disappointment was evident on his tone. "Your loyalty is commendable Officer Kitch but misplaced. If you continue to be difficult, I will be forced to kill you and your friend with one slug. Obey or die? There will be no second warning."

"It's just my fucking luck that I end up being in the same room with two trigger happy bastards." Stan mumbled to himself sardonically.

"You're gonna get yourself into a whole lot of shit if you do this you know!" Stan exclaimed. "Killing 2 Officers in cold blood is a death sentence here."

"Self Defense, Officer Kitch." The Arbitrator corrected. "Officer Allen threatened to kill me and you stubbornly got in the way. That makes you an accessory to his crime. I have visual and audio proof of that if needs be. Either case, I have no regrets."

"What do you mean?" Stan asked.

"Proof?" Cris asked as he curiously peaked from behind Stan.

"The machine spirits has provided me with recording devices in my helmet." The Arbitrator said as he tapped on his helmet. "I am an Officer of the Law after all. Everything was put into writing. Even your biased government cannot deny the legitimacy of my actions. So you see, Officers. I hold all the cards here."

As shocking as this all was, what was even more shocking for Cris was when he noticed that Stan was at a loss of words. Coming from him, it was something very concerning. He noticed that his friend slowly began to shrink. His shoulders slowly dropped like something from a burden that he can no longer carry. His hands fell limp. Dead on his sides. His head fell morose. Deep in despair. Defeated. Lethargic in front of the face of death.

The Arbitrator appears to have taken noticed of this as well.

"So be it." The Arbitrator sighed as he raised his gun at him. "You are an exceptional Officer. May you find solace in the Emperor's side."

It was around this time that Cris finally found his nerve again by the time he heard the loud clicking of the guns hammer. Adrenalin was pumping fast in his body. His heart was beating so fast that it felt like time began to slow down around him as he fell to down around himActing entirely by instinct, as though his body had a mind of its own, he pushed Stan out of the way and then aimed his gun towards the Arbitrator.

Cris saw that the Arbitrator was caught off guard by his unexpected move and bought him a few precious seconds to blast him with a burst from his sub-machine gun. The Arbitrator was hit straight in the chest and was pushed back. Cris shot another burst at him that threw the man backwards to the Van's wall where he slid down to his seat with a heavy groan.

Before Cris could blast the Arbitrator again with another burst, he and everyone else in the van were thrown off and kissed the cold steel floor when something outside struck the van on its side. Not a second past since the first collision when they were struck again only this time they were being pushed off of the road. They heard the loud revving of a powerful car's engine and the ear piercing sound of burning rubber coming from outside before coming to a sudden stop.

Cris groaned and massaged the bruises he just earned. Fortunately for him there was nothing broken. He thought that whatever that was happening was probably over by then. Slowly, he tried getting up on his feet before a series of deafening explosions from outside sent him dropping flat on the floor. The force of the explosions made the metal walls ring like a bell and made Cris's insides uncomfortably reverberate. The loud cracking sound of concrete and the breaking of stones from beneath them followed and sent the entire Armo. With a loud screech, he felt his stomach rise to his chest and his heart rising to his throat as the entire Van came falling down.

It ended as quickly as it started. Cris and the others in the van never got a chance to react accordingly. None of them even managed to let out a scream in the confusion as they came falling. The only thing Cris succeeded in doing was hitting the floor hard enough for him to get knocked out just as the van slammed onto the ground. The force of the impact launched three passengers out of their seats. They bounced around the vehicle like ragdolls before falling completely still to unconsciousness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N: Before I receive any scrutiny from the more devoted fans of the genre, I'd like to clarify that as the story is still progressing, please just bear with me. Things will get interesting as it goes on. Of course I will have made some adjustments with some of the lore so as that there will be some form of common ground between the two universes.

More shall be explained as the story progresses. But until then, I wish you all to enjoy the story and don't forget to leave a review. Theories are welcomed as they are interesting and I am open to suggestions on just how this story will play out though I already have some plots in store. Perhaps I could write those in for fillers. Lets see.


	4. The Journal

A/N: I planned on making this into a monthly series but Work and a Rewrite on this chapter caused some delays. Apologies for that on my part. But that just gives you a better story that is sure to entertain.

Am glad that many of you liked how I've set up Arbitrator Nidarr. More of him will be told in this segment of the story and will help with understanding him more.

 **Yami-Guy** : Yes. The Batman shot down the Arbitrator and the Heretic's ship but not before he himself was shot down by the Arbitrator before crashing. (See Ch 2)

 **Slaggedfire & ManwithaPlan113: **Could be, could not. Most people would already be hostile if they're put in an uncomfortable position of being with a crazed killer in the back of a police van. Cris's anger could pass off as legitimate.

 **solarblaster:** Nabu wouldn't know about the Emperor's existence in the Warp since he isn't that type of God yet in this time period.

 **Axcel:** Reviews are much appreciated. But please, stories like these have many unrealistic scenarios that are made to be entertaining and dramatic. Cut a little bit of slack in the creative freedom, if you would kindly. I actually had trouble figuring out what weapon I wanted for the Arbitrator so I kind of made the mistake about the Clip/Magazine thing. Thanks for pointing that out.

* * *

The Journal

 _His Holiness, 190 993 M41. The day I have long awaited will alas come to be. On the morrow, I shall advance to be a full member of the Adeptus Arbites. A Trooper. A Ceremony will take place for the 20 of us. 20 out of hundreds deemed worthy and capable to be instruments of the Emperor's Judgement. Whispers about the possible attendees have been made in the silver halls. Rumors abound to the appearance of the Judge or even by a High Marshall. Optimistic views. Ones would be very excited for no doubt. Let them be humbled by such gatherings and be awed by its splendor because none of it truly matters to me. I care only for the honor and privilege this entails for me. A step closer to becoming an Arbitrator, and if the Emperor be willing, rise even higher so that I may uphold his Laws and be a cornerstone of Order in His Imperium. All these are second however only to my desire to serve the Law and His Holy Emperor._

 _By all means, I can't wait to get out of here. Arduous years spent in the Progenium will now pay me back in full as I now had the privilege of stepping foot outside the and into the Imperium at large. A call for freedom if you will. I tend to feel uncomfortable being in such enclosed spaces. Even more so to the prejudiced eyes of the Drill Abbots. For honesty's sake, I must say that I cannot wait for all of this to be behind me but not of their wisdom of which would prove fruitful for me out there._

 _On the morrow, I shall become Adeptus Arbites. I weep at the realization. I weep even as I write these words. May my tears on this page stand testament to my devotion to the tasks on hand. I shall be the ever vigilant Sentinel. A Beacon of Order. The Iron Hand His Emperor's Justice. An upholder of His Holy Will. The voice for His Words._

 _I shall face the challenges of this Glorious Imperium without fear because the Emperor Protects._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Compared to the chaos engulfing Gotham up on the surface, the serenity expected in the city's underground tunnels was something unheard of.

For Noose, it all seemed to look like an entirely different world. Fresh from the page of the storybooks he stole and partly collected as a kid. He found himself journeying through a forgotten world. A labyrinth of infinite winding paths. An ancient place as old as the first stone that laid the foundation of the very city above their heads. A place of eternal night that was more than a match to Gotham's grim aura of brooding skylines and abandoned bright alleys. A place only shadows lie. Untouched by time where you'd mistake a minute traversing in the dark for an hour.

Noose shut his flashlight off and allowed the darkness consume him. He took a brief moment to savor the sensation of serene blindness. Allowing his other five senses took hold of him immediately to a new type of euphoria and allowed his imagination go wild.

He took the mossy damp steps for the marshlands of a swamp. His very whispers echoed back to him en masse like a gathering crowd. The cold air he breathed were imagined as smoke out from a puff. The deafening silence broken only by the maddening drips from the rusted pipes. The maddening serenity broken the moment someone patted him in the back and broke the spell.

"Something wrong, Kid?" One of his five companions asked. All of whom were armed with flashlights, guns, and other tools for a Hired Gun's trade.

"Nope. No. Nothing at all, Cap'n Graves." Noose squinted at the blinding sight of the light. The suddenness of the circumstance had him grab hold of his own gun and squeezed the trigger by accident. Thankfully the safety for the thing was on.

"You sure? Didn't see anything, did you?" Graves pressed. His own gun was raised at the ready. "The stories they have about this place isn't all fairies and Chupacabras, kid."

"Like I said. It's nothing." Noose promptly replied as he turned his own flashlight on. "Not far now, sir. We're actually almost there."

"I do hope so for your sake." Another man said at the tap of his cane.

The light revealed the oddest looking man of their little party. The man stood tall with a black birch cane, a bowler hat on his crown, and a 3-piece striped suit with shiny brown leather shoes. The most notable feature that the man has were the pair of thick round eye-glasses that he wore that has marks reminiscent of clock hands.

The man was someone they all have met just a few hours ago. A man that they only trusted because of his reputation. The man was their employer. The man was the Clock King.

"I would prefer not to be late for this particular venture." The Clock King approached Noose. "We still have lots to do and time is not on our side as of the moment Mr. Souci."

"Yes sir, Clock King, sir." Noose tipped his cap to him and pointed to one of the tunnels in front of them. "One turn through there and were there."

"Do you swear?" the Clock King pressed.

"Every fucking day." Said as he raced off to a turn inside one of the tunnels. "Over here, guys! Cmon."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _His Holiness, 191 993 M41. The Ceremony, as expected, was a simple affair. Barely lasted an hour as a matter a fact. Her Honorable Judge Orrin stood in front of us with the Proctors and Arbitrators flanking the twelve of us. I would have mistaken it for a Hearing. I still shudder at the thought even as I write. Before we can be given our badge, a final test was presented. In front of us Cadets were a twelve of the Condemned kneeling in front of us. One for each of us. No black bags on their heads so we will all bear witness to their last moments. A legitimate test._

 _We never knew their names nor their crimes. None of the others brought it up. It will be the task we shall undertake from then on. The final door. All that mattered to me was that they were guilty and by showing the Arbites my commitment to their cause, I would have fulfilled my oaths and forthwith as Guardians of the Law._

 _Pathetic writhing creatures. Soiling the Silver Court with their filth in the presence of her Honorable and the retinue of Arbites. Scared out of their wits, no doubt. Many cower under the shadow of our Academia of Law but I can only imagine the terror filling their thoughts when they find themselves in the presence of the Arbites to face judgement for their crime. I say, let us be the last things they see before crossing the Warp. Let our terror be known to the daemons they lodge with in their hellish pits. Let the Warp fear the might of the Imperium before the coming of the Emperor._

 _What I got was a young woman. Early 20's 5'6 approx. 110lbs approx. Short red of hair. Beneath the grime and filth, I imagine a comely face. The pretty green eyes were unblemished despite her sunken sockets. I might even consider her a pretty thing. Seduced many a man I reckon. Slaaneshi slut's charms are just as useless as her cries for mercy on me. I find myself honored to perform her sentence spare the Imperium from her proclivities._

 _My First Sentencing was quite a scene. Hearing it all as it was spoken by 20 voices as one. The same can be said when it came to our oath._

" _To serve the Emperor. To Protect His Domains. To Judge and stand guard over his subjects. To carry the Emperor's Law to all worlds under His blessed protection. To pursue and punish those who trespass against His Word._

 _The Emperor Protects. "_

 _Not one word added nor forgotten. Down to the last word. Not a syllable out of place as it echoed throughout the Court. Sounds as ominous as it was intended. The same could be said for the gunfire. Blasted about like clockwork without a hint of delay or hesitation. Must have been an impressive sight. Judge 'Stonewall' Orrin honored us by nodding to us for our deed. A rare occurrence. The other Arbites, our Proctors, provided us with our Badges. Shining gold. Untouched by no other hand before ours. Our helms were then given. These were our new faces out there in the unforgivable Universe. Our Shield against corruption. Our Avatar of the Law._

 _It is a day worthy of note. Another note was that the woman was also my first kill. Rather anticlimactic and not as dramatic as what they present in the Holo-Picts and Vids. They say that, "One never forgets their first." But it felt so insignificant to me that I predict that I wouldn't recall much of it later on. Useless gak never last long in my noggin. I never felt anything when I pulled the trigger save for the recoil. I had no regrets for the life I had stolen from the Emperor. I had no pleasure in the satisfaction of the immense power bestowed upon me by the Law. What I had was the pride at the confirmation that my beliefs in myself, my Will, and my Faith in the Emperor made real. Assured that I had what it takes to uphold Justice in his name from now on and beyond._

 _The Emperor Protects and henceforth, so shall I._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

True to his word, it didn't take long for the boy to bring them to a large opening. A place were the innumerable subway tunnels interconnected in one spot. The Crossroads.

"Fortune smiles on us, gentlemen." The Clock king approached the center of the chamber. "The police have their hands full from the riots occurring not far above our very heads. And to avoid it from spreading to other parts of the city, the government has decided to close down the subway system. Leaving us with a very wide window to do as we please without any interference."

"We will set our trap here." The Clock King announced as he tapped the ancient stones with his cane and flipped out his gold pocket watch. "Let's hop-two. We have approximately 16 minutes and 33 seconds as of now. Let us not waste our window."

"You heard the guy, let's move it!" Graves called out and scattered the team.

Graves took out a bundle of road flares and threw one on every corner of the area. All of it looked like he was setting up a pagan ritual with all that red light and smoke spilling from the sticks. As pretty as it looked and as helpful in shedding light on their work. It also helped masking the stink of the sewers that were gurgling underneath them.

"Not all of us here are boys, you know." Plastique pointed out to the Clock King testily as she walked past him.

The woman then shot a grappling hook to the ceiling and pulled her up to the pipelines. Another mercenary, Noose, did the same and joined her. The two started secured their rappels on the rafters for easier movement.

"Perhaps if you'd start acting like one," Clock King called out to her for all to hear. "I might just consider you as one."

The other mercenaries laughed aloud in response. Noose barked out the loudest laugh but a quick elbow from Plastique cut that short. The woman spat a fat one at the Clock King's general direction before going back to work. Swinging about the pipelines like a trained monkey.

The other two men, Meat and Grasse, set up shop next to the Northern and North Eastern tunnels where they unzipped and set up their gear. Someone could have mistaken the two for twins based on how they assembled their guns so meticulously down to the last screw. In less than a minute, they managed to complete a Compact Carbine combat rifle with Meat finishing first by 2 seconds.

"9 minute and 20 seconds, people." The Clock King said. "We seem to be ahead of schedule by 40 seconds. I am impressed, Graves."

"We all aim to please after all, sir." Graves proudly stated. "Else we'd fall short from being called the best."

The man looked at the Clock King longingly. Expecting some form of response or praise from him. Using him as most people in this professionalism ought to do. With a reputation as a mastermind in the criminal underworld with so much red written in his name, this little man might as well have been in the presence of a god. It disgusted him.

So the Clock King said nothing to the sniveling wart. Graves soon got the picture and shriveled back. Betraying his earlier bravado. Ironically, this earned him some form of praise from the Clock King. Little of it for sure, but praise nonetheless. This one seemed smarter than he looked.

"Grasse and Meat are in position," Graves reported in a more serious tone. "Noose, is just about done with the last couple of charges while Plastique is doing the finishing touches on the detonator, and Sid is ready with the dump truck. Roost on lookout also said that the target is in the 3rd of Roosevelt."

"Very good, Captain. Very good. All is going right on schedule." The Clock King replied passively before turning to the blinking lights of the C4 being set up above them. "Though I worry that the others in your team will get in the way of that. It is very noticeable that they are on edge and you know how much I hate being late."

"The other guys just don't like someone looking over their shoulders. They like doing things their own way, y'know?" Graves explained. "They may have their complaints but I sure as hell don't. Cash doesn't always pop out of the blue just about anywhere in our line of work. I take what we can when there is. I could also use a good distraction from all the shit's that's been going on today."

"Indeed." The Clock King simply nodded. "For a man who expects every possibility on everything in his day to day life, I was given the dissatisfaction of witnessing what that thing blotting out the sky has wrought."

"Y'know, they call it the Purple Star Incident, right now."

"Do they?" The Clock King raised an eyebrow then shook his head. "Well whatever they choose to call it is none of my concern. It's the consequences that troubles me."

"And that's what?" Graves curiously asked.

"Man has always feared what it couldn't understand. That is why they put their stock in gods and superstition to help them sleep better at night as they have done throughout history. Superstition soon became tradition, tradition turned into culture, and culture turned into Order. In Order, there is a place for everything and that makes everything in its place."

"And makes everything else very predictable." Graves surmised.

"As a matter of speaking, Captain. Yes." The Clock King chuckled. "Despite all that we have accomplished, we are still animals if one such pillar is exploited. We are all still primitive to our most basic desires. And that Star-whatever-you-called-it was the ticket that gave people the pass to the Land of Do What You Want and the Land of Take as You Please."

"Total Anarchy, amirite?" Graves nodded.

The Clock King turned to Graves with a raised eyebrow. A show of surprise. He wasn't expecting his colleague to understand the metaphor so easily.

"What?" Graves shrugged. "I read Alan Moore."

"Indeed." Clock King sighed. The Captain had a point but the point wasn't on the same point of view to what he had in mind. "Regardless. I disdain chaos and disorder. It makes people unpredictable. Hard to understand. To manage."

"I'm no stranger to what a man can if given enough reason to. I've had my fair share of getting the front row seat of those during my Army days."

"Neither am I. Suffice to say that it is events like this that makes my job of reading and predicting them a whole lot more challenging if not impossible because of the infinite possibilities it ensues. Even now, I find myself pondering on these changes. Though a little bit less than I was after the initial part of the mess. I didn't even notice my phone ringing for this particular undertaking a 53 seconds after."

"So, you weren't the one who hired us?" Graves asked in disbelief.

The Clock King bit his cheek at this. The man WAS smarter than what he had taken credit of him for and now he has slipped and fallen into a trap. How Graves wanted to use this information was irrelevant and didn't know that the very mention of more would put them both in dangerous territory. Anonymity between criminals was an important aspect in their line of work since trust is an alien concept for them. The less that's known between the two, the better. Saves the trouble of fucking the other one over when one got captured. An inevitable consequence due to how many capes soared above all of them.

"I believe it is best if we get back to work, Mr. Graves." The Clock King excused himself. "We are beginning to dally with time we cannot afford. We shall speak more of it soon."

"Roger that, sir."

This seemed to satisfy the man. For now. But as of that moment, the Clock King had unknowingly made a loose end. He never knew that his precautions for such situations so soon into the game.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _His Holiness Year, 198 993 M41. The Arbites have assigned me to Aristachus in the Calixis Sector. Population: 7.3 billion. A single growing Hive-City of 5 billion and counting. P-Gov's cooperative at least and realistically corrupt but provides his tithes in time. No history of Major Rebellions of note. 43 - 50 known and notable factions of Gangs. Reports of Mutants are prevalent and occupy most of the Underhives and some of the lower levels. The Emperor is generous for delivering me to such a place. There will be a lot of work for me to do for the sake of His Glorious Imperium._

 _There will be 34 other Troopers who will join me in this journey. White-Shield Cadets but not as naïve as me I'd care to fancy. None of them are from my own batch and none of whom I knew. They are but individuals from the other sects of the Schola Progeniums in the Sector. I've always admired this design. The genius of it is palpable. To deny ourselves of attachment and loyalty for a particular place, we avoid any source corruption that would take root in us. It would deny us of our task to pass judgement properly. Attachments are a weakness that blinds us from the truth. Opens us to corruption – in a political sense – and denies us any sense of loyalty to the Law and to the Imperium that I will serve._

 _I pride myself for my devotion to this ideal. So much so that I've never considered this planet to be home mor any of my colleagues here to be my friends which makes their exemption from my life will be soon no more than a distant - or if I'm lucky a forgotten - memory. They never liked me for a reason that is a mystery even for me even now as I write. I could say the same about them and so I prefer to turn a blind eye to it because I like what it entailed. But I digress…_

 _The Emperor Protects._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After carefully setting up the last charge for her bomb, Plastique whistled in satisfaction with her finished work. The woman quickly rappelled down from above the pipelines with the artful grace of a circus rope performer and landed right in front of the two men without breaking a sweat. The tunnels may have been smelly and damp but it spared no expense with how colder it was inside.

"I take it that your task is finished?" The Clock King asked.

"I wouldn't be down here if I wasn't, Poindexter." Plastique replied while making the final adjustments with the detonator.

Noose rappelled down after her only without the same entertainment value as Plastique.

"Detonator's set and ready to blow!" Noose exclaimed in excitement. "Let's get this show in the road!"

"Timing couldn't have been better." The Clock King praised the best that his personality could offer. He then looked into his pocket. "Two minutes and 32 seconds. It won't be long now. Get your men into position, Captain."

"Got it." Graves left with Noose following not far behind. His eyes never left the Clock King after a few steps before turning heel to his position.

The Clock King had no doubts that his foolishness had earned him a chat with the good retired old Captain shortly after this job was done. He was about to make his way off when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He didn't doubt who it was, but he decided to entertain her since he had a minute to spare.

"You have 32 seconds, Plastique." The Clock King said to the obnoxious woman without even turning his gaze at her. His eyes were glued to his pocket watch. "That is the most I can spare for you."

"Yeah. Just something that's been bugging me." Plastique paused to light herself a cigarette before continuing. "I just never thought of you as a movie guy."

"Excuse me?" The Clock King turned to her in surprise. Evidently surprised to be asked something trivial.

"I said, are you into movies?" Plastique repeated herself after blowing out a stream of smoke. "Cuz all of this shit here reminds me of 'The Italian Job'. And I ain't talking about the classic one. This one has Mark Wahlberg, Charlize Theron, and even Edward Norton before he was completely an asshole-"

"And how is this relevant?" The Clock King impolitely cut in to ask.

"The climax had the team rob a truck with all this gold so they rigged bombs that led under the subway, sent the whole truck crashing in, they then knocked out the drivers, cracked it open, and sped off with all the loot." Plastique motioned to the bombs that she set up, to the ring of flares that they had set up where the Van was going to drop, and to Allister and Bronte who were armed at the ready. "Any of it look familiar?"

"To answer your question, Ms. Souci, is no." The Clock King answered disinterestedly. "They're too predictable for my taste."

The Clock King then swiftly, but lightly, tapped Platique on her side with his cane. His eyes were a mask for her but behind those oddly shaped spectacles of his, he was utterly impassive when doing so. Interested only in keeping up with their schedule.

"Your time's up. We have a minute and 40 seconds." The Clock King had the final say the moment he closed his pocket watch shut then putting on his earplugs hearing no more of her chance to complain. "To your position now, if you'd please."

Plastique blew a long stream of smoke at the Clock King's face in disgust then waited. Much to her disappointment, the Clock King didn't show anything that showed weakness. She could see man's eyes behind those stupid glasses and never saw it flinch. Not a single bead of sweat poured from his brow. No pause in the man's breath. Both understood what the other meant. With a single nod, both went to their separate ways.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _His Holiness Year, 209 993 M41. Entered the Warp and the first time to see it up close. Not the most favorable position I would care to be in as of the present. The Immaterium. The Realm of the Enemy. I've always hated the idea of the place and simply being in it made me hate it even more than I fear it. It was really something else when you are looking at it up close. Doesn't make it any prettier though. The portal was like an insatiable maw of a celestial giant that is ready to swallow up the Bounty Ascending and her fleet like a meal on a silver platter._

 _The Warp is everything I have sworn to fight for His Holiness yet I find myself being here. The belly of the beast. Surrounded with naught but the enemy that scratch at our hulls and whisper in my sleep. Not that I could get any here. I find no comfort here. No matter how thick the walls. No matter the guns or the shields or even the chorales of the priests, I shall have no peace here. I know that I alone do not have this outlook._

 _Everything about the place is everything I have sworn to stand against. The place is chaos incarnate to the point that even the order of time is swayed and was as immaterial as the realm. I simply placed the date in approximation to the cycles that have passed before we entered this Emperor forsaken place but even then it might change by the time we get out. Whether by days, months, or even years. For all I know we might have missed a century out there in a week that has passed in here. Calculating all of that just gives me a headache but NOT thinking about it gives me an even bigger one. I put my trust in the Voidsmen that they get us to our destination in due time but I place my faith in the Emperor that He protects us from the hordes of demons prowling outside. I might as well have been living in the chapel instead of my own bunk for the rest of this trip._

 _Ironic that despite of it all being the realm of the Enemy, it is the only means of travel we have in the breadth of our Glorious Imperium as well as the gift our Holy Emperor bestowed upon us before His internment. The very thought of us needing the Warp and in turn the Enemy have need of us to corrupt, is enough to make me vomit. Gifts are accepted and used but it doesn't necessarily mean that it must be loved._

 _I hope that we survive this trip. I'd hate to spend eternity here before I could manage to spend one day in service of the Emperor's Will._

 _The Emperor Protects._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Roost just came in." Graves called out. "The convoy is nearing target. Sid confirmed and is revving himself up. Get your asses in gear, folks!"

Graves followed this up by throwing fresh flares on the ground in front of them. The entire team held their weapons tight at the ready. Their eyes glistened like a cat ready to pounce their prey. Their heartbeats quickened so much that it faintly echoed in the damp corners of the tunnels.

"18 seconds." He heard the Clock King say to no one in particular. "13 seconds."

"Sid just made contact!" Graves announced. "Get your ready now!"

"10 seconds."

"Blow the Charges! Now!" The Clock King ordered.

Graves would have preferred hearing the signal coming from Roost but decided otherwise to follow the Clock King's lead. The man had a reputation he could lean on and he was their boss after all. And in case that the guy was wrong, Graves and his team get off Scott-Free from any blame since it was the Clock King's move in the first place.

Plastique in turn didn't care who the command came from. Her hands were already trembling the moment she first held onto the detonator and itched to press it longingly. She was more than happy to blow something up.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" She cheerfully howled.

In contrast from the others who ducked in cover, Plastique instead kept her head up and looked in awe at the sight of her explosives blow up in quick succession above them. The C4 blew up as one in a deafening roar in quick succession. The rocks were blown asunder that showered them with pungent dust and chunks of rubble. The loud crack of concrete stone from the ceiling crumbled and shattered under the weight of the Armored Vehicle that came falling down after it.

It took two seconds for the Van to fall from such a height and slammed onto the middle of the Crossroads with a deafening clang. The red lit flares were buried under the rubble while some were blown away by the thick gust of wind. The same gust nearly blinded the trappers and bathed them in grey.

"Ahead of schedule." The Clock King grinned as he stood to bear witness to his prey served in front of him on a silver platter. "With 2 seconds to spare."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _His Holiness Year 963 993 M41. A productive day despite it being the "Emperor's Gift". This time coming from Sepheris Secundus and another from nearby Dreah. No one is to go hungry or lack anything of want in the next passing cycles. The Arbites will make sure of that._

 _I'd expect that the citizens would be more disciplined than usual at these prospects. Greedy swine. Many would not be eating well for the next coming cycles but as compared to the last one, the results were a lot lower than usual and what was once given before. Arrested 44 for minor offenses, 32 for major offenses, 18 executions for the crimes of murder, rape, attempted murder, and treason._

 _Another 5 were captured and sentenced for trial. Fools were conspiring a coup against the government. Being caught by my squad red handed, they were already begging me to execute them on the spot. I was tempted to do so after they spout out bribes, but orders were orders and I wouldn't want to deny his Honorable a final judgement. I always expected that the Elite would care to show more dignity in the face of their Sentence._

 _The Emperor Protects._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Not a second before the Armored Van stopped quiet on its tracks, Meat and Grasse opened fire at the drivers in the front windshields of the Armored Van. The gunfire was deafening. The bullets burned as it flew but only left cracks and some dents on the bullet-proof glass. The barrage was relentless however and didn't take long for it to shatter under the weight of the bullets. The two SWAT Officers never stood a chance and were quickly cut to ribbons.

Grasse fired in controlled bursts while Meat hollered and whooped as he fired in wild abandon. The latter even went so far as to approach towards the vehicle in between shots till he blasted the corpses a foot from him. Scattering glass, sparks, guts, and splatters of blood all around him while he kept up a wide grin.

As this one sided massacre occurred from the front of the Van, Noose made a mad dash to the Van's cargo hold at the back with a leather satchel at hand. The boy tripped and slid on the way however because of the grubby wet floor but saved himself from humiliation by grabbing onto the door handles and propped himself back up to speed. Graves and Plastique on the other hand waited not far behind with their own guns at the ready. A Colt Commando with a Grenade Launcher attachment.

Reaching into his satchel, Noose took out a breaching charge and stuck it by the doors before clearing away for the explosion. The moment the Van's doors were blasted open, the other two mercenaries immediately fired a pair of gas grenades into the Van. It didn't take long for the gas to do its work and soon the entire Van was engulfed with the noxious gas. Long enough for an easy extraction for the plan's second phase.

Noose climbed aboard with a gasmask on and disappeared into the smoke. Graves approached the Van where he met up with Meat and they both waited near the doorway for Noose to bring out the Target. Plastique covered the both of them not far behind. Grasse remained at his post. Covering the front of the Van while the Clock King simply acted as a spectator that stayed behind the scenes.

Noose reappeared soon after from behind the plume of smoke carrying a wheezing SWAT Officer with him. The Officer was partly blinded and was coughing violently but Noose made no move to assist him. Instead, he indifferently threw him to the others before once again disappearing behind the thick smoke. Meat quickly struck the Officer unconscious with the butt of his gun and restrained him to the side with the man's own handcuffs. Noose came back soon after with another SWAT Officer. Only this time the man was unconscious with a bleeding brow.

"Woah, woah, woah." Graves waved off a hand. "We're not the fucking Red Cross, Noose. We don't have time for shit like that. Retrieve the Target and only the Target so that we can go off our way."

"It's hard to see shit with this mask on, dude…sir. Rather be sure who to pick up. Take everyone out to make sure." Noose panted. His mask muffled out part of his voice. "Plus in case that the plan goes to shit somehow, at least we got some leverage with us."

Before Graves could retort a complaint, Noose already tossed the Officer at him then disappeared inside the Van again.

"I swear to God that if that kid is fucking getting ahead of himself." Graves cursed under his breath. "If he weren't Plastique's ilk, he wouldn't be worth a damn."

"He takes after his aunt that's for sure." Meat nodded next to him. "And the Kid has a point though, boss."

"Thanks for volunteering." Graves tossed the dead-weight to Meat. "And smash their radios."

Meat griped at being given a menial task but followed through since it was an order. Being a soldier was all he had left now and he'd hate himself for forgetting the best times of his mostly miserable life. After restraining the unconscious Officer, he had the other carry him and led them to the corner where he impassively kept an eye of them for the duration of their stay.

Graves turned his sights back at the doorway and saw a figure emerge from behind the clouds of gas. It was easy for him to see that it was Noose but oddly enough, he wasn't carrying anyone and a loud scraping noise was coming from inside. His questions were soon answered when Noose finally emerged and jumped down from the Van. The kid wasn't entertaining any questions and he ripped his mask off then greedily gulped on the stale air. No matter how foul it smelled.

"Gimme a hand here will you," Noose groaned in between pants as he put on his mask again. "This fucker here…weighs a fucking ton."

With no one else nearby to lend a hand and with time ticking close to home, Graves decided that he had to be the one who had to pull his weight. Covering his face with his baklava and his goggles, he joined Noose back to the Van. The boy wasn't kidding. The man really did weigh more than he expected and struggled a bit to drag the body out of the Van. The two were careful with placing the man on the ground before dragging it again further away from the smoking Van.

Past the near-blinding smoke, Graves got a better look at the dead weight he was dragging. It was no surprise to him that the guy's heavy ass was caused by the banged up plate armor the Target had on it. The decorations and the aesthetics that the man had on his uniform, was enough for Graves to whistle in awe. Especially the full face helmet that the man wore. It was stark, intimidating, and made him want to make something similar for himself. That or just steel it right then and there.

"So." Graves asked. "Anyone else in there?"

"What?" Noose wiped his brow. "No. No. This is our guy."

"He's not dead is he?" Graves lightly kicked the body.

"Nah. He's got his pulse still." Noose waved off an impatient hand. "I checked."

"Right. You hear all that, boss?" Graves called out to the Clock King.

"Clear as it could be, Captain. This is our man. There's no mistaking it." The Clock King said as he approached the body. Plastique followed him from behind.

"Cool. So who is he?" Plastique asked.

The Clock King remained silent and went about inspecting the body. He had no intention of divulging any information to any of his hired guns. Thankfully for him, Noose decided to fill in the blanks for the others himself.

"I dunno, but I think he's a soldier or something. Cuz… y'know… of his armor – obviously – and this thing I found in there." Noose guessed before taking out a massive Revolver from his satchel. "I know the GCPD. And none of those bozos have guns like this. I don't think any police force HAS guns as big as this. What the fuck do you kill with these?"

"Something big and nasty, I reckon." Plastique replied.

"Lemme see that," Graves didn't wait for the boy to give him the weapon. He forcefully took it and inspected the weapon. He tinkered with it but the weapon wouldn't play ball. The gun wouldn't open its chambers for the bullets, the hammer could barely budge, and the trigger was stuck.

"Damn thing must be broken." Graves cursed. "I'll have a look at this in the shop later and get it back into shape."

"Yeah, but you're gonna give the thing back, right?" Noose asked Graves but the man was so occupied by the weapon to be disturbed.

"He's gonna give me that gun back right?" Noose turned to Plastique.

"Probably once you learn how to say please." Plastique jested.

"Damn." Noose lamented. He was never going to get that gun back from Graves.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _His Holiness Year, 985 993 M41. 94 for minor offenses. 52 for major offenses. 20 executed for association with dissidents, cause for rebellion, and for treason._

 _For Man to be Just, Our Laws must be cruel. I've been saying that a lot to myself lately. More and more at every passing day. The people hate us no matter where I walk. Amidst the myriad of faces, not one of them would turn without either turning pale white or scowling – if they dared. A good sign on my part. Fear quells treachery. Treachery instigates rebellion. Rebellion is heresy. It does not take much for them to turn their backs on the Emperor. Their very salvation. A few quick knocks and a sudden stop was enough to make the other denizens cower. Have them obey His Laws and do so more convincingly._

 _Others need a more 'thorough' lesson than most. Carelessness on my part earned me a ticket in the Medicae for a day after I took a slug in the arm. I could have gone out on the next hour if it weren't for Medicae Stahl wasn't so stubborn. Infected she said. Easily managed by a dose. Exit wounds? Stitches and plasta-salves. Broken bones? Chop it off! Might cost me a visit to the Cog-Boys, but it beats being stuck under her strict eye and care for 3 days. Of course, all of these fell on deaf ears and slipped past her blank green gaze then had the gall to operate on me herself whilst I was strapped on a gurney._

 _Must admit that I admire a bit of that about her. The young lass could actually look at an Arbite without wincing which was a nice change from the usual. Her line of chopping up bodies and the possible drugs she might be reliant on might have a hand in doing so. Not that it is illegal afterall. Their Adeptus provide them the means to work better. If only there was one that could deal with her obstinacy. I believe that my future visits to her will be a difficult affair. I'll just have to be careful then so as not to see her as often._

 _The Emperor Protects._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Disarm him whilst he's still unconscious." The Clock King ordered. "Then let us get a move on. We are getting behind schedule."

"Roger Wilco, Clock-Boss." Noose volunteered.

The boy knelt next to the black armored man then began rummaging through the man's things. There he found some familiar and unfamiliar items neatly set up under the man's surcoat: A series of grenades next to a series of empty pouches, thick iron handcuffs, a buckler shield, a portable med-kit, and what looked to be a heavy studded thermos with a leather neck. He didn't bother himself with those at first however. He wanted to get himself a good souvenir first. Probably one that he could sell for a good price.

Noose decided that these would be one of the colorful medals that were stuck on the armored man's armor. The prize he chose was a not the shiniest, but simplest but the most unique. An ornate red wax badge with intricate carvings of a Florian Cross and two sheets of parchment paper with strange inscriptions written on it. But the badge however would not budge no matter how hard he tried to carefully pry it out. He was so busy trying to satisfy his greed that he failed to notice the man slightly stirring from under him. By the time he realized the red light emanating from the man's eye shining on him, it was too late.

" **Hmmmm**." The Arbitrator growled. His voice sounded distorted with his respirator but it made it sound deeper. More sinister.

Noose didn't expect that the Target to be conscious so soon and find the man looking at him with his faceless mask and demonic red eye was petrifying to the bone. He was stupefied. Stunned. He didn't get a chance react or say anything back when the Arbitrator violently grabbed him in the throat and lifting him over him with inhuman strength.

" **Besmirching a Purity Seal…with your filthy stinking hands…is a serious offense."** Arbitrator spoke in between pauses of breath. Each phrase sounded angrier than the last whilst his grip slowly tightened. **"No quarter. No rights. For Heretics like you!"**

The Arbitrator did not simply choke the boy but instead crushed it in the palm of his hand like it was nothing. Noose fought hard and desperately tried prying the fingers off of him. He even started kicking the man at anything his legs could reach but to no avail. The Arbitrator's hand was as solid as a stone statue and his body was as hard as concrete. Not even hitting the man's the groin did Noose any good save from pissing the man off and squeezed even harder till the bones in his throat were crushed. His vision became blurry as his eyes were almost popping out of its sockets. The pain was so intense but he could not find the air to scream even and desperately gasped for what little he could breathe. Blood gurgling out from his mouth while the rest of his face turned pale. With what little strength he had in him, he punched the Arbitrator one last time. The best he could do was give the monster a light tap before limping dead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _254 994 M41. Lara. Medicae Stahl, gave me my journal. Didn't bring it in case I died. Below the Underhives. Didn't ask for it. For Therapy perhaps? Emperor bless her._

 _Finally earned the right to become an Arbitrator. Not something expected after waking up in the Medicae Center. I begin as soon as I finish rehab. Others are dead. Only survivor from 5 Platoons. Served Proctor Moserah. Sent to eliminate mutant incursion. Aided by Redemptionists. A crusade. Don't remember much. Killed so many that my hands still stink. Demons were there. Filthy things. Disgusting things. Evil things that ate so many of us. Lost good friends. Ferio. Dorinne. Maxine. Sven. Tulfio. Barret. Xenia. Lost Proctor Moserah. Tried killing as many as I can before dying. Killed a big one. Scared off the little ones. Don't remember much afterwards. Found me crawling out of that hovel. Alone. Half dead. Lost my helmet. Still had my firearm. Broken power maul. I was the last one pulled out. Thank the Emperor. I survived. Lost some of good looks. Many scars. Thank the Emperor. Able to serve. Started calling me "the Immortal". Has a nice ring to it._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Graves and the other Mercenaries were just as surprised as Noose the moment they saw the Arbitrator regain consciousness. A cold chill crawled down their spine the moment he did and thought that they were looking at a demon with that red eye glowing in the dark.

Unlike the rookie however, they managed to steer clear and got themselves to firing positions. They all motioned to shoot but hesitated when the Arbitrator used Noose as a human shield while in the middle of choking him. The boy's thrashing made it harder for them to take a shot at his assailant in the dark.

Everything happened so fast that they never got a chance to help the boy before they all heard his neck snap. The sight of losing a comrade gave the Arbitrator an opening to reach for Noose's Micro Uzi but Plastique kicked it away before he could shoot any of them. As compared to the others, Plastique wasn't shocked. She was angry. Angry that she wasn't fast enough to save Noose. Angry that she just lost her nephew. Before she could even avenge the boy, the Arbitrator threw the corpse at her. The blood drooling deadweight pinned her on the ground.

With that out of the way, Graves shot at the Arbitrator but the man quickly rolled himself out of the way and deployed his shield just in time to block the bullets. The shield then emitted a bluish hue and rebounded some of the slugs back at Graves. The ricochets struck his gun, his legs, and a couple on his belly. All this put together threw him backwards on the floor.

"Fuck!" Grasse cried and began unleashing controlled bust of gunfire at him.

Caught off guard, the Arbitrator was struck by a stream of high powered rounds but it didn't do much to take him down. The bullets instead ricocheted off of him or fell to his side in a pile of smoking flat heaps. The Arbitrator threw his shield at him like a Frisbee and struck Grasse hard in the chest. The shield also struck his gun, bending it in half, but this did little to soften the blow and still threw him a couple of feet across the room.

"Goddamn son of a bitch! Get some!" Meat fired wildly while spouting out as many obscenities as his machine gun. "Fucking kill you! Fucking cunt! Cocksucker! Bitch faggot! Punk-ass Motherfu-"

Meat's barrage was quickly cut short when the Arbitrator threw a bolas at him. The man never knew what hit him as it whistled towards him in the dark. The bolas caught him and incapacitated him as it coiled around his body. Trapping his arm and his gun in place. When the balls struck him, Meat accidentally shot himself in the leg. The high powered weapon blew up his limb to red meaty pieces and dropped him in the floor. As he laid bleeding on the floor, Meat defiantly spouted curses and fiercely spat foul language at the Arbitrator up until his last breath.

" **An Ork has better aim..."** The Arbitrator snidely remarked before the Clock King struck him with a sword he unsheathed from his cane.

The hit didn't hurt the Arbitrator in any way short from being a nuisance. The sword struck him hard but didn't pierce through the armor. It did leave a noticeably bright spark however but it barely left a scratch on him.

"Dead or Alive, is what they've instructed." The Clock King ranted while swiping his sword. "I wanted to be civil and bring you over to them in one piece. Not a hair out of place I told them. I had everything planned down to every minute. You've made a mess out of all that, thank you very much! I am considering killing you right here and now. For making me LATE!"

" **You're welcome to try."** The Arbitrator retorted. " **Then…you're gonna give me those names."**

The Clock King didn't need another excuse and struck the Arbitartor with a flurry of blows whilst dancing around the man to stay clear from his blows. For an old man, his attacks were as strong as they were fast as they were no more than a blur to the naked eye. Nearly invisible inside the dimly tunnels with only the whooshing sound of the humming blade to lookout for before a strike. Advantageous as it was for the Clock King against the large and exhausted target, but even he had the same disadvantage as his opponent. His own attacks were limited since he only had the Arbitrator's silhouette and its red eye to work with in the dark. What's worse was that his attacks were just as useless as the bullets as every strike glanced harmlessly off of the Arbitrator's armor no matter where he lands a blow.

Undeterred, the Clock King continued his relentless attack. He kept the Arbitrator on the defensive long enough for Plastique appeared and shot the Arbitrator in the head at point blank range.

"Eat lead, dickhead!" Plastique shouted. Her eyes were red with tears and rage. "This! Is! For! Niel!"

Fierce as her words were, her gun was too weak. Its bullets were too round for it to penetrate the thick nut of a helmet the Arbitrator had. Despite this, the man groaned and stumbled, as the bullets rung his bells. One of the bullets however bounce off the helmet and ricocheted the bullet at her gun. Knocking it from her hands.

Unarmed, the Arbitrator swung at her and struck her right in the face. She tried blocking it with her arms but only succeeded in breaking them as the fist tore through them. Stars were dancing in front of her dazed blackened eyes. She expected the hard kiss of the cold damp floor but the Arbitrator was far from done with her. He grabbed her hard by the hair then kneed her hard in the face. Blood and broken teeth spilled from her lips. Her nose was broken and caved into her face. Her eyes were near blinded by the weight of the blow. Ever so generously, the Arbitrator finished off by throwing her over to a wall. Leaving a sizable dent in its wake.

The Arbitrator never got a catch his breath before the Clock King struck and stabbed him straight in the eye. The Clock King used Plastique's distraction to aim for the only thing he could see in the dark, the Arbitrator's red eye. He figured that the man's visor was his Achilles' heel.

"Checkmate." The Clock King reveled at his perfect execution but this quickly turned to a scowl.

The sword struck true but the moment it touched the Arbitrator's visor, the blade bent then quickly snapped in two. The broken tip of the blade flung itself in the air and disappeared in the dark. Much to the Clock King's chagrin, the Arbitrator quickly grabbed the old man's wrist and crushed it from under his fist.

The agony of his broken limb brought the Clock King to his knees whilst screaming out loud in pain. The Arbitrator never let him go and kept him on his feet and looked at him straight in the eye. The Clock King was so close to him that the latter was nearly blinded by being so close to the Arbitrator's bright red eye and nearly upchucked his lunch due to the man's pungent smell.

"The Fuck…are you?" The Clock King angrily asked.

" **Dog-tired."** The Arbitrator huffed before ripping off his rebreather. This didn't make his words any less threatening however. Only a lot more serious. "Now. _hem_. The names. Before I rip your arm off."

The Arbitrator violently grabbed the Clock King by the throat with his one hand while slowly twisting the man's arm with the other. The pain was grueling. The intimidation tactics were more than effective that he felt himself suffocating under the man's gaze. In the face of all of this however, the Clock King simply smiled.

"Sorry but…" The Clock King chuckled. "Snitching isn't in my itinerary today. Better try later."

The Arbitrator snapped the Clock King's arm backwards like a twig. The latter screamed in agony and gasped in between breaths afterwards.

"You're wasting my time." The Arbitrator glowered.

"That…hmm!…makes two of us." The Clock King hissed as he tried holding back the pain. "You are strong. I admit. But you are nothing. Nothing! Against the forces in play here. You…you are going against the Devil here… _Demon_!"

The Clock King was going to say more, but the Arbitrator cut him short when he punched the man hard in the face. He couldn't see it, but the Clock King felt the fury emanating from the Arbitrator before getting his head knocked hard. Something in the Arbitrator snapped that made him fume so fierce that Temple Fugate imagined that the air burned around him. Figuratively speaking.

The Arbitrator unsheathed a long bar from out from his holster that extended itself into an intimidating iron mace after a quick whip. The weapon then unleashed a blinding blue light of violent crackling electricity at a press of a button. He rammed the mace so hard at the Clock King's stomach that it blasted the old man across the corridor with a loud bang.

The Clock King crashed hard into the floor but even as he laid wet in the cold damp floor, the painful spasms remained that made him twitch like an epileptic on crack. His entire body would not obey him even as he struggled past what felt like the thousand cuts that was coursing throughout his body. He felt his chest burning embers as it twist and turned his insides like ribbons.

The last thought that came to the Clock King's mind before everything went black was the 5:30pm coffee break that he was going to miss.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _355 994 M41. Minor Offenses – 78. Major Offenses – 86. Executions – 12. Assigned with Proctor Einid of the IV Squad. Riots becoming more prevalent. Many sport the Star. Covens discovered. Had to act fast before Inquisition gets wind of it. Worked 3 times as hard. I pray to the Emperor that we put a stop to all of this before it gets out of hand. Source yet to be discovered._

 _The Emperor Protects._

 _360 994 M41. Minor Offenses – 53. Major Offenses – 43. Executions – 4. Including partner. Arbitrator Wyatt. Arbirator broke down due to stress. Off hinged for past few weeks already. Wyatt shot at crowded street. Arbitrarily. Without sentencing. Imagined nonexistent threats. Killed 16 people. Injured 10. Subdued him just in time but the man pointed his firearm at me. A Capital Offense. Forced to act. Executed him on the spot. Multiple Witnessess. He has failed his Adeptus. He has failed the Emperor._

 _The 16 were not guilty. May they find peace with the Emperor._

 _The Emperor Protects._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Graves groaned as he tried getting back up his feet and plucked out the rounds off of his chest. His Kevlar thankfully took the brunt of the rounds but it didn't stop them from feeling like a punch from a pro. Whatever voodoo that shield had made his 5.56mm come back at him like it was a .50 Cal. It knocked the wind right out of him and left him wheezing on the ground. The one that hit him in the gut hit him straight to home and had him puck his lunch out on all fours.

By the time he finished and caught his breath, he found the Arbitrator as the last guy standing. Or rather, tried standing. The son of a bitch could barely keep on his feet as he breathed like an asthmatic whilst coughing his lungs out. As weak as this guy looked, Graves knew that even a cornered mutt – no matter how beat up it is – wouldn't go down without a messy fight. Graves may not see the Arbitrator properly, but he knew that the man still had a lot of fight left into him.

Coincidentally, Graves still had a lot of fight left in him too and just like Hannibal, 'He always has a plan.' Grasse was still in the game and was behind the Arbitrator. Graves was sure that the Arbitrator didn't know that. The lights from the flares were also about to run out of juice and that might help tip the scales to their favor. All Graves needed to do was to distract the Arbitrator long enough for Grasse to make his move.

"I seriously drew that short straw here." Graves lamented. "This was all supposed to be a simple pick up job. A milk run. Easy money. Now look what you've done."

"Give me the names." The Arbitrator demanded.

"Not the type for small talk huh? I can relate to that-"

"Shut up!" The Arbitrator bellowed. He then activated his mace and allowed it to do the talking.

"Alright. Alright." Graves coolly said with both his hands half raised. "The fuck are you talking about. What names?"

"The Successor Chapters of the 3rd Founding." The Arbitrator sarcastically replied. "No, you fething bolt-magnet. Your boss. I want them."

"Oh that." Graves said to buy time. He had no idea who they were neither. "The Clock King. The old man with the cane. He's the one who hired us."

"Talking about him?" The Arbitrator pointed his mace towards the tunnel next to him.

Graves turned his flashlight towards the same tunnel and saw the Clock King's broken body lying there. His face was lying down and half submerged in the filthy water. The man's limbs had stopped twitching.

"That four eyed gak-head says differently. And won't be saying much anymore." The Arbitrator rasped as he loomed above Graves who in turn felt himself shrinking under the man's shadow.

Sweat started pouring down his brow despite the cold. His throat quivered and words would not escape his mouth. Graves was petrified in dread in the face of this terrifying man. A cold chill ran up his spine as he felt something from otherworldly in the presence of the Arbitrator. It was something Graves could not entirely explain.

"Let's see…if your comrade will talk more sense." The Arbitrator said.

The flares died at that very moment and at the same time, Grasse charged in with his pistol firing. Graves on the other hand, froze and gave the Arbitrator an opening to head-butt him. The blow shattered his nose and sent the man stumbling back.

Graves snapped himself out of his dazed state long enough to watch the Arbitrator overpower Grasse after a few blows that sent the latter stunned but still on his feet. The Arbitrator lifted Grasse's head by the hair then shoved his face onto the mace where it sizzled and burned amidst the poor man's agonizing screams. The foul stench of charred meat filled the entire chamber and almost made Graves hurl what was left in his stomach. Chunks of flesh were ripped out of Grasse's face when the mace was pulled out from him. Grasse immediately collapsed and fell on his knees with the Arbitrator towering above him with his mace gripped tight.

"Stop!" Graves cried out as the Arbitrator struck Grasse one last time.

The blow to the head so hard that it got swiped it from his shoulders. The head flew off into the shadows before loudly splatting itself on the metal plated van. With said and done, the Arbitrator started limping towards Graves with his mace hanging lazily on his side.

"Not much of a talker apparently." The Arbitrator snidely remarked.

Graves quickly scrambled to reach for something in his webbings and grabbed on to the first thing he could get his hands on, the Arbitrator's massive pistol. He forced the hammer back and immediately pointed it right at its owner.

"Hold it right there you son of a bitch 'fore I swear to God I'll splatter your head all over the floor!" Graves cried.

"Your 'god' abandoned you." The Arbitrator snarled whilst he slowly made his way towards the man. "So Emperor be with me…SWEAR TO ME!"

"Shut the fuck up, you demonic son of a bitch!" Graves spat. "Shut up! Shut up! And put. The night-stick. Down! Asshole!"

"Who say's I'll need it?" The Arbitrator growled as he dropped his mace to the ground.

The Arbitrator was no more than a few feet away before Graves decided to pull the trigger. Or at least would have if the gun would fire. The gun only clicked at every pull of the hammer not that it did him any good. Before he could do anything else, the Arbitrator broke Graves's arm, took back his gun, and then held him in the air by his collar.

"Eunomos Pattern Service Pistol." The Arbitrator motioned to his weapon. "Not as precise as a Las-Pistol. Not as powerful as a Bolter. But it's reliable and mine and mine alone."

The Arbitrator dropped the wounded man on the ground. He broke open his weapon and reloaded the weapon with a few massive rounds from his pocket before closing it with a snap in one swift motion.

"You don't know, do you? The names?" The Arbitrator said in disappointment. "Pity."

"In the name of His Holy Emperor. You have been charged with multiple accounts of attempted murder of Imperial Personnel. Assaulting an Imperial Personnel. And the Forbidden & Unwarranted use of Arbites property. I hereby thrice judge thee, Traitorious in Extreme Diabolous. And sentence you to death." The Arbitrator stated monotonously as he placed the weapon on his accused's head. "Any word for your defense?"

"P-Please…" Graves begged in between sobs.

"Defense noted." The Arbitrator replied dryly before pulling the trigger.

The gunshot was powerful that it blew the man's head asunder to a hundred pieces. The blast was so powerful that the sound echoed a storm around him and blew the body away like a discarded toy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

With everything else dead and done, Arbitrator Mateus stood alone in the midst of the destruction around him and collapsed in one knee. Safe at last, he gave off a heavy sigh of relief and breathed heavily in between violent coughs that earned him the taste of blood in his lips. His body was greedy for any respite. Exhaustion had taken hold of him like an obsessed lover and would not let go without a struggle.

Mateus was tempted, but he knew that he was not out of the danger yet and forced himself to move forward. But before he did anything else, he took off his helm, clasped his hands on his brow, and prayed to the One True God.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Atop one of Gotham's many skylines, the Batman stood alone and perplexed. His thoughts were racing. His brow furrowed whilst his eyes were glued onto the tattered pages of the old journal Robin found. The Boy-Wonder was dismissed hours ago and left to aid the beleaguered police against the city in turmoil.

The Batman instead opted to stay behind and go through the pages of the old book as to better understand the whole picture. Little did he know that his curiosity would quickly turned into interest as he kept on turning the page after page. With what little he could understand from the mess of scribbles introduced him to a world that both intrigued and horrified him. It was a world unlike anything the Batman had ever seen. Something more akin to a dystopic nightmare that makes Gotham sound like a kid's playground.

The journal also contained separate pieces of parchment with hand drawn pictures of this world, its cities, and its monsters. The Batman could only stare in astonishment at the detail the man took in drawing this collection. One of the drawings were of Skyscrapers the size of cities piercing the skies, curly red haired girl with a tired look in her eyes but showed off a light smile whilst smoking a thin cigarette, thousands of soldiers in gas-masks standing in attention, hulking brutish aliens with teeth the size of daggers, horrible insect like creatures ripping a bunker apart with its claws, and the remains of a burning tank with corpses of bird like creatures surrounding it.

Underneath it hall however, The Batman found himself reading a story of a broken man. Devoted to his duty. Stubborn and defiant in the face of perceived Evils. Ravenous to the ideal of Justice. Blinded by his faith to the point of fanaticism. All in all a dangerous man. The type that he could not allow to let loose in his city.

An explosion from somewhere inside the city placed all of these thoughts on hold. It was not far off from where he was. His instincts telling him to go there didn't accost him thoughts to reconsider. Strapping the Journal in one of the webbings in his suit, the Batman jumped off the building with his cape as wings and flew off to the scene of the rising pillar of smoke.

* * *

A/N: Chapter 5 is coming soon so please be patient. More are to come soon. So in the meantime, keep sending me your reviews. Let me know what you think and feel free to have fun with theories. This makes things a whole lot more entertaining.


	5. The Underworld

A/N: After a long delay and a little bit of waiting for those who wanted more, Chapter 5 has arrived. Thank you also for the support. I'm more than happy to know that you all are liking the story.

For this chapter, you will now enter the investigative mind of the Batman and the legends they tell of him as well as why all fear the Dark Knight.

You will also know a thing or two about our main character as seen by his peers.

 **Parks98 –** Batman vs Judge Dredd is one of my favorite comics. But it's not gonna turn out that way.

 **OBSERVER01 –** Gotham might as well be Disney Land as compared to any Hive City. And yes. There is a large chance that there will be some misunderstandings between the two in this chapter.

 **Ollanius Persson –** Glad you do. You'll like him even more in later chapters. I promise you that.

 **Edboy4926 –** Just as long it ain't the Stallone version.

 **ManwithaPlan113 –** I see what you did there. Hahaha.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Underworld

The Police have already secured the area by the time the Batman arrived atop one of the nearby buildings. A medical chopper hovered noisily above the Police's heads as it carefully loaded a pair of gurneys before flying off to the nearest hospital. From behind the veil of shadows and away from any prying eyes, the Batman silently watched and observed the scene. The smoke was only a memory by then with a few wisps of smoke left and faint trails of rubble commemorating the explosion's existence.

The Batman recognized the Officers on the scene as Gordon's men from his department in Special Crimes. A perimeter of their police vehicles and yards of shimmering yellow tape covered the perimeter of intersection in the entire block. In the corner by the sidewalk was a large near perfect square hole. Curiously, an equally large metal billboard was leaning on a rundown Garbage Truck.

The firefight that swept the area was still fresh. Most of the Police Vehicles and asphalt ground were still pocked with bullet holes possibly from a high caliber weapon. Possibly from a sniper in a high vantage point. A problematic circumstance since the intersection was surrounded by many buildings with even more windows. Finding it would be like finding a needle in a haystack and would be a waste of time. The Batman knew that finding that shooter was not the priority as of the moment. Even if he did try to find him, the suspect would have been long gone already.

The Batman noticed one vehicle missing in the convoy's perimeter. He recalled seeing 2 Armored Vans with 5 police cruiser escorts leave the park hours ago. Now one Armored Van was unaccounted for. There was no doubt in the Batman's mind that the missing Van had the Arbitrator person in its hold. That Arbitrator was the reason for all of this. He was the person these villains were after. The question now, was why?

Spent shells and empty magazines littered the streets. Police Officers in the area were all strapped with bandages while bruises marked every part of their bodies. None of it looked life threatening thankfully. As fortunate as this was for the Police, none of it bode well for the Batman. He realized that all of this was meticulously planned but to what end?

The Batman thought long and hard trying to discern which of his Rogues would have the ability or the resources to prepare for something so daring and near perfect in so short of a time. Too many names came to mind and those alone are the villains he had faced in Gotham. There were also villains from beyond to take into account. These theories became more farfetched the more he thought about it. The possibilities were endless. A labyrinth of riddles that gave more questions than answers.

Before the Batman could think anything further, a Police Sniper emerged from inside the fire escape. The Batman barely had time to slip out of view. Thankfully, the Officer was too engrossed with his conversation over the radio.

"—just made it to the rooftop." A Police Sniper panted to his radio as he quickly marched off to the ledge of the rooftop. "Deploying Nest in 20. Over."

" _Roger that. Be on standby. Over."_

"I miss anything good? Over." The Sniper asked while he set up his equipment.

" _Nothing much. Oh, the Commissioner just went down with three SWAT Teams. They came across some hobos on the way down but they didn't cause any problems. Ran off without us firing a shot. Apart from that, nothing else until they find anything down there. Over."_

'10-4. Over." The Sniper replied. He was just about to do the finishing touches on his rifle when he felt something watching him from behind.

Without warning, the Sniper turned around in a split second with rifle at the ready and pointed it at the shadows in front of him. Despite seeing no movement in the past couple of seconds, the Sniper kept his aim and didn't bat his eyes away from the crosshairs. He knew there was something there. His grip on his weapon tightened the moment he heard noise coming from the dark. A figure darted out from behind a post. It struck a bottle and sent one crashing to bits. The clanging of metal rattled from the scrap heap piled nearby.

The Sniper readied himself as the unseen figure closed in on him until a yellow eyed figure appeared from the shadows with a hiss. He was about to pull the trigger only to find his threat as nothing more than a mangy stray cat with part of an ear missing.

The cat eerily stared at him suspiciously with its glowing eyes as it appeared larger with its hair raised to bristles. It bared its fangs at him and hissed back like a spitting snake. The Sniper had the good mind to shoot the feline right then and there for giving him a fright. He decided otherwise though since that would mean that he'll have to write a report about it in the Armory. A handful of pebbles were enough to have the cat skittering off to god knows where and out of the Sniper's hair.

"Fucking strays." He shook his head before setting his eyes on his scope.

The moment the Sniper turned his back to watch over the intersection, a shadow behind him came to life and left unnoticed before the Sniper felt the sudden change in the wind.

The Batman quickly jumped off of the ledge and spread his cape out like wings as he descended towards the grimy alleyways without incident. From the shadows near the alleyway's entrance near the Police Perimeter, he watched and waited parachuted down to the grimy alleyways away from any prying eyes.

Not that he needed to anyway. Everyone's attention was spent listening to the endless and undiscernible chorale of sirens from the traffic of cars as they moved at a snail's pace. No one would have particularly noticed or cared even if the Batman was standing right next to them.

An opening was about to open up for the Batman so he made a move to enter the perimeter but before he could step foot in to the light, the stray cat from earlier reappeared behind him. The curious feline lovingly rubbed its coat at the Batman's legs before diligently propping itself on top of a trash can right next to the Dark Knight.

"Good girl." Batman petted the feline. The cat simply stared back at the Bat with its two emerald eyes before jumping off and once again disappeared into the dark alley to nowhere.

The Police present in the area lacked the manpower but they did manage to set themselves up to positions in a way that would allow each Officer to cover an area effectively. Not to mention the Snipers on the roof. They did however had a myriad of other things to watch out for seeing as crowds of onlookers gathered at the edge of the perimeter and a fleet of cars were slowly crossing the intersection. With an unknown enemy to watch out for, the Police were prejudiced to anyone outside the yellow tape.

The Night by then had settled itself for the evening. The shadows on the walls were lengthening until the entire city was engulfed in a curtain of grim blackness. The lights in the streets, from the police, and from the vehicles simply made the shadows darker. These were nothing more than blind spots the Batman exploited as he easily entered the perimeter unopposed and began his own investigation right under the Police's noses. It was all child's play for him.

The Garbage Truck was evidently stolen. Signs of hotwiring made that conclusion easy. Broken windshields caused by the impact of the collision. Faint traces of blood splatter stains in the old leather seats. The foot breaks were stuck bolted to the floor. This made moving the Truck harder than usual.

The next thing he looked at was the large metal Billboard leaning next to it. No poster of any kind. Made from thick heavy duty industrial steel. Hastily cut that left rough edges and thick skid marks identical to the ones on the road. The metal handles holding the Billboard up the wall were blown to pieces by a smaller type of explosive. The Billboard itself was large enough to cover up the entire hole and heavy enough to hold its own.

The Batman then turned his attention to the near perfect square hole. He ran his hands around the blackened cracks and the surrounding debris. Or lack thereof. He only found pebbles and dust around it. The explosion came from the underground and were planted on the corners of the hole. The explosives used were military grade. Strong enough to blow about 3 or more layers of concrete. The weight of the Van did the rest.

The Batman could see it all play out in front of him now almost as if he himself was there at the time it happened to witness it all:

 _Gordon's convoy drove to the intersection from the west. An awaiting Garbage truck barreled down from the north and struck the Armored Van with great enough force to push it to the corner directly under the shadow of the Billboard sign._

 _Explosives from underground sent the Van falling down below. The type that throws more dirt in the air than flames. The Batman could already imagine the smoke covered streets that spread out for two blocks. Amidst the confusion, a second batch of explosives took down the Metal Billboard and covered up the hole. All that was left before the smoke cleared was to park the Garbage Truck on top of the Billboard. Locking it in place._

 _The Police would be out of their cars by then but the enemy Sniper on the roof pinned them down. Long enough for the perpetrator in the Garbage Truck to make his escape. The police were at the Snipers mercy. There was also a possibility of the Sniper buying his cohorts from underground time by continuing his onslaught before escaping._

Either case, the rest of the clues needed to solve this mystery were going to be found in the Underworld. Gordon and his men were already there. They climbed down earlier using rappel lines tied to their Vans. He could already here the old man barking orders from below. Perhaps it was as good a time as now to finally meet him. Out of everyone in the corrupt GCPD, Gordon was the only man he could trust to help shed light to this mystery for him.

Without hesitation, the Batman leaped down the hole. He soon landed on top of a wrecked Armored Police Van in the middle of a large underground chamber. A Crossroads per se due to the many tunnels surrounding it. Everything around him was pitched black marred only by the lights from over a dozen SWAT Officers. None of whom were pleased by the Bat's appearance since they immediately pointed it and their weapons at him.

The Batman stood tall and menacingly in the face of the armed Officers. The plumes of smoke the wrecked Armored Police Van was belching under him made for the more terrifying presence. Especially for the SWAT Officers looking at him with their night vision goggles. Despite outnumbering the Bat and having all the guns in the room, some Officers couldn't help but quake in their boots upon seeing the Dark Knight towering above them. It was looking at the devil himself with those eerily white eyes and long draping cape that crawled down the Vans sides like tendrils that melded well with the shadows.

The SWAT Officers' reactions were mixed from accepting to hostile. Some put theirs down immediately and moved back to give him room to jump down to their level. A few kept their distance as the Bat passed by their way. Some did the same but kept him in their crosshairs the entire time. Others were simply stunned upon seeing the Batman up close for the first time and wouldn't move from the spot.

It was a momentous and a rare occasion to see the Batman up close because the citizens of Gotham see him as more than a caped crusader. To them, the Batman was a legend. An urban legend told in rumors and in whispers. Some would even call him a cryptid like Bigfoot or the Mothman.

To the Police of the GCPD however, the Batman was a specter that watches from the shadows. A silhouette in the dark. A figure with a billowing cape atop a skyscraper. A monster and a hero. Many of them hated the Dark Knight due to his stance of being above the law but deep down they knew that they needed him. Not in perpetuity but only for the time being because they knew that they hadn't have the strength or power to challenge the true monsters of their society. A bitter pill to swallow.

This was the real reason many in the GCPD hated the Batman. They hated themselves because of their fear. Fear of him, the fear of Gotham's criminals, and fear for their families if they ever crossed either of them. They hated themselves for being too human. This hasn't stopped some Police Officers from respecting the Batman though. Most notably, Commissioner Gordon.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up." Commissioner Gordon said while lighting himself a cigarette. "I just didn't expect you to come in this late."

The old man appeared to be the only one in the chamber who wasn't startled by the Batman's appearance. He didn't even turn to welcome the Bat when he arrived. He was too focused on working with what little he had in the crime scene. This inadvertently forced the Batman to come to him.

"Thought you already quit, Jim." The Batman said whilst he approached. "That stuff will kill you, one day."

"There are worse vices." Gordon replied as he puffed out a silver stream. "Like this goddamn job for example. But God, how I love it."

"That makes two of us." The Batman smirked. "So what's the situation, Comissioner?"

"A goddamn massacre, that's what." Gordon replied coldly.

With a flashlight on hand, Commissioner Gordon showed the Batman the corpses scattered around them like autumn leaves. The foul stench of the sewers paled in comparison to the scent of fresh blood and the poisonous scent of their rotting bodies. Their pale bloodied faces showed the Officers their last moments in life in a macabre fashion. Thankfully these were generously covered by the dark. Gotham has never ceased to surprise Gordon with all its morbidity and its bleakness. He wasn't even sure if he was walking on damp stones or bloodied pools because his feet felt like it was sticking on something at every step. He gave off a heavy sigh and carefully massaged the bridge of his nose to stem the stress that boiled inside him.

"What have you found out?" The Batman asked.

"Nothing that you haven't seen here." Gordon led the Batman around the scene. "We were ambushed and the Van fell here where they were waiting. They started with the front while another team moved in the back. Tear gas was used to incapacitate the passengers judging on the leftover residue in the Van's Cargo hold but they were attacked by these hobos before they could escape."

The Batman found the Van in more disrepair than what he first expected. Bullet holes the size of a nickel marred the front side of the Van. Some rounds struck the radiator and caused some steam streaming out but the engine wasn't the source of the smoke.

"17 dead. God knows how many injured judging by the limbs and the blood splatter left behind." Gordon led the Batman back to the Armored Police Van. "Two of them were ours."

It was tragic to find the sorry state of SWAT Officers' bodies lying on their seats. They were torn to bits by high powered rounds that were strong and relentless enough to shatter thick bullet proof glass. Cut to ribbons by metal shrapnel and bladed glass that flew off at them when the windshields shattered. Smoldering and burnt black from a Molotov cocktail that smashed on their laps. The flames were gone but the white smoke and the smell were still there.

"Officers Jacoby and Mills." Gordon introduced the Batman to the two bodies. "The First Team barely had time to take the fire out when they were clearing the scene for us. Forensics need to have a look at them first so we can't move them just yet but I've got to say, this was not the best way for them to go."

The Batman simply nodded back.

A couple of SWAT Officers nearby had their helmets off and humbled themselves in front of the bodies. The Batman heard some of them giving the fallen a prayer. These were their Brothers in Service after all and wanted to lay them all to rest with a cloth over their heads. Forensics however needed to document the scene and they were still in enemy territory. So the bodies stayed as they were much to everyone's chagrin.

"4 bodies are from what looked like mercenaries." Gordon said. "We're waiting for forensics to identify them since they were all picked clean. Probably by the vagrants before we scared them off. My best bet is that these mercenaries are locals. The type with military backgrounds based on the equipment and what we've seen here. Two of them were injured. We had to fly them out to the nearest hospital before you came in."

"Any ID on those two?" The Batman asked.

"Yup. And you wouldn't believe who we picked up." Gordon paused to smoke his cigarette. "Temple Fugate and Bette Souci."

"Clock King and Plastique." The Batman said. He was all too familiar with their exploits given their previous clashes in Gotham. They may not be that big in his radar as compared to the Joker or Mr. Freeze but that didn't make them any less dangerous than the others. "Plastique is just a hired gun but Clock King on the other hand is capable of planning all of this out in short notice. I'll pay them a visit later."

"I doubt they'll have anything to say to you, Batman." Gordon scoffed.

"They will once I am through with them." The Batman glowered.

"Oh, I don't doubt that." Gordon sighed. "But do you mind waiting a couple of months? Both of them are comatose and near critical condition."

"How?"

"Medics said that Plastique suffers from a concussion and internal bleeding. Her face looked like it got pummeled by a freight train. The Clock King had it easier. 3rd degree burns from possible electrocution at the chest cavity from something that burned through the suit, light Kevlar, down to his skin."

"And you're sure that none of these people have anything to do with that?" The Batman pointed at the rest of the bodies. Vagrants and squatters by the looks of their rags.

"This is the Underworld we're talking about, Batman." Gordon made mention the people called Gotham underground. "Everything here's off the grid. Folks outside of the system. Topside, we call this place Hell. Outcasts and Meta-humans would call it a haven. The type that a certain _someone_ might want to have in his ranks."

Gordon pointed his flashlight at one of the vagrant's corpses. Etched on the center of the dead man's chest was a scarification tattoo not unlike that of the Mursi and Surma Tribes the Batman saw in Africa. The tattoo was a dagger shaped like a sprouting flame. The Symbol of the Blackfire Cult.

"Deacon Blackfire." The Batman spitefully.

"Yeah." Gordon said gravely before flicking his cigarette off into the dark. "Looks like we have him to deal with now. He's probably have his stinking hands on them right now."

"I take it that some of your Officers are missing as well?" The Batman deducted that Gordon wasn't the type who'd leave a hostile individual in the back of a Van without any form of escort.

"Officers Allen and Kitch." Gordon turned to the Batman for the first time since the start of their conversation. "Their good Cops. Bring them back in one piece."

"I will." The Batman nodded.

Something glistening on the ground caught his eye. Picking it up, he found it to be some badge of sorts. A badge made of blood red wax imbedded with a Florian Cross and other intricate carvings. Two pieces of parchments trailed behind it.

Each contained hand written inscriptions written in some form of Latin that the Batman could barely understand. They were written as a form of prayer and provided the Batman a glimpse of the religion that the Arbitrator follows. The most he could make out of it were something along the lines of:

" _May the Emperor Bless this Faithful Servant to spread Thy Word"  
"May the Emperor Protect this Warrior and let me Die with Glory"  
"May the Emperor Shield me from the Heresies and Lies of the Enemy"  
"May the Emperor's Will be with me as I uphold His Justice and Fight in His Name"_

A symbol of a two headed eagle was imprinted in the bottom of the parchment. The same eagle that the Batman found on both the Arbitrator, his ship, and his Journal. He surmised that this symbol must be their religious icon and this Emperor being their god. As fascinating as this was for the Batman, it also garnered him a lot of suspicion due to how fanatically extremist all of this sounded like.

"Found something?" Gordon asked.

"Tell me about the Arbitrator." The Batman said as he pocketed the badge.

"Not planning on beating him to paste too, are you?" Gordon asked. "The kid was already banged up as it is. Looked like he just came straight out from a warzone when I first met up with him. He smelled like it too."

"Kid?" The Batman was more concerned with that particular detail than anything else Gordon said about the Arbitrator.

"Not a kid per say." Gordon shrugged. "I just got a hunch that he's younger than what we've expected after I talked to him. Not that I got much out of that conversation. What I do know is that he's not from here. This planet. So he's not human. He's also said he's a part of some kind of Galactic Police Force.

The Batman already knew his extra-terrestrial background and his occupation as some form of Lawman. The Journal had made a clear distinction of that. What the Journal never got to distinguish was its author's actual age. He has always pictured him as a grizzled veteran who has served in many campaigns as he had scars. Ironically, Deathstroke immediately came to mind. The revelation of the Arbitrator as nothing more than a youth came as small surprise for him.

"There was something too." Gordon continued with a grave tone. "Be careful being around him. He's got a little bit of hell coming from him. Something you have in common apparently. This guy means business and I bet he's the type who'd do _anything_ to get things his way."

"I'll keep that in mind." The Batman said as he made his way to one of the tunnels in front of him. "I'll see what I can find. You and your men go Topside. Gotham still needs the GCPD."

"Yeah, well do that. But how do you even know that's the right way.

"There are no bodies this way." The Batman said. "This is where they probably went when the Arbitrator and the others ran off."

"What?" Gordon and the other Officers asked. They were taken aback and were confounded by their words. But before any of them could ask, the Batman was long gone by then.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Darkness never posed a problem for the Batman as he walked down the forgotten tunnels at a quickened pace. Even as a child, darkness never scared him. The shadows never got in his way nor did the suffocating walls that appeared to close in around him. Ironic as it sounds, bats scared him more as a matter a fact.

Darkness is his ally, as Bane once put it. It couldn't have been farther from the truth. Darkness was a weapon that allowed him to take down dozens of hostile vagabonds that got the way of his investigation. Darkness turned him into a monster that many superstitious Cultists feared with many running away before him less they face his supposed wrath. Darkness hid him from any prying eyes as he tracked down the Arbitrator's group and from large mobs that would be too troublesome for him to face. Darkness made him into a legend and many people – civilians and villains alike – whispered his name in fear.

But there was more to the Batman other than being a creature of the night. He was more than a caped crusader dressed like a bat. He was also 'The World's Greatest Detective'. Though the name was not as eye catching as 'the Dark Knight', his intuitive skills as a detective was of more use to this situation than his skills as a crime fighter.

Gordon correctly concluded that the convoy was ambushed by the mercenaries. The mercenaries were going to use the chaos in the city as a distraction and escape unnoticed through the unused subway. They killed the drivers and incapacitated the passengers before making their escape. But before they could take one step out of the Crossroads however, they were attacked by the Blackfire Cultists. A fight broke out and all the mercenaries were butchered. The Cultists then proceeded to loot everything not tied down like they ought to do while at the same time had the Arbitrator and two SWAT Officers in their stinking mitts.

The reason why any of the GCPD gave a damn was because of their men. No man left behind, after all. That, and the fact that the Arbitrator had a lot to answer for.

The Batman agreed with the first part of this scenario. The evidence stood by these too. But what came after the mercenaries' ambush was where their story parted ways. Whereas Gordon believed that the Cultists had their hands on the Arbitrator, the Batman believed that the Arbitrator and the Officers escaped out of their own volition but at the same time being chased down by the Cultists.

The first piece of evidence he found were on the corpses scattered around them in the Crossroads. From both the Mercenaries and the Cultists.

The Batman wouldn't be able to call himself as the BAT-man if he didn't have the ability to see in the dark. Apart from wearing the costume that is. Thanks to the optic devices in his cowl, the Batman was able to look at the crime scene in a better _light_ than Gordon and his other Officers.

This was not to say that Gordon wasn't a good detective. Given time, he would have figured out himself. The man just didn't get much out of the scene due to the dark. Stress added more to his limitation. Gordon also missed a very important picture, the Cultists do not take prisoners save for their most macabre of celebrations.

The Mercenaries' death were no doubt morbidly brutal yet they were also done in an unorthodox manner. Bodies were blown and torn to pieces from well-placed high caliber rounds. Laceration burns coiled on one of the bodies like a deadly embrace. Limbs were torn apart and smashed in the most creative ways. Blunt force trauma that tore off body parts from root to stem. Multiple signs of electrical burns that charred flesh down to the 3rd degree.

The possibilities these being done by Meta-humans under Blackfyre's Cult were still considered. Super strength and elemental powers were common superpowers but these injuries were found on the corpses of their fellow Cultists as well. But here was where the second piece of evidence came into play, the Arbitrator's Journal.

The Journal had helped the Batman paint its author in a more familiar light. With it, the Batman was given access to the man's thoughts, his past, and probable actions that made it easier to track the man down at present. But the Journal didn't always have all the answers however. There were some parts where the Batman was required to piece some parts together like the corpses in the Crossroads and its connection to the Arbitrator.

The Journal may not have described the man's fighting style in detail but it did make many mentions of the Arbitrator's tools of the trade. Namely his electric powered 'Power-Maul' – which the Batman pictured as and blunt mace - and his large caliber Service Pistol. Both were strong enough to 'Crush an ogryn's head to paste' and 'Shot a Genestealer till it was cut in half', as the Journal Entries would put it. The Batman didn't know what an ogryn or a genestealer are but they sounded formidable from their names alone.

The man's near fanatical devotion to the law and his cult-like religion made it easy to discern that he had a particular disposition when it comes to dispensing criminals in his duties. As well as giving the Batman a glimpse of his personality. Stubborn, merciless, and relentless. If it weren't for the fact that the Arbitrator had no qualms in killing, the Batman would have seen him as a man after his own heart. Put two and two together and all possibilities led to Arbitrator making it out of the Crossroads on top.

With all that in mind, the Batman could already picture the most possible scenario occurring in the Crossroads.

 _The Mercenaries ambushed the convoy and killed the Van's drivers. They then moved in and knocked the rest out with Tear Gas save for the Arbitrator who overpowered them. He then enlisted the two Officers and held ground against the incoming Cultists. Hoping that the GCPD would arrive in time to save them. That would have taken time and it didn't take long for things to go very dire for them._

 _There were simply too many Cultists, too many entrances in the Crossroads for them to cover, and the lack of cover there made it a death trap. Retreat was their only option and they escaped into the tunnel systems where they could have some advantage over the Cultists due to the many bottlenecks they could use against them._

This doesn't make things any simpler for them however. If not more difficult. The Cultists had the home field advantage over them let alone the ability to properly fight in the dark at a certain degree. Both were something the Underworld is most infamous for. Even the Batman had some difficulty fighting them down here in the tunnels in his past encounters with them.

The same however could not be said for the Arbitrator however. The Journal had many entries regarding the many expeditions he took part off that led to places similar – if not worse – than the Underworld. Three of which sounded more like full military Campaigns or 'Crusades' as he put it. The Arbitrator just barely survived every encounter given how hellish every one of those turned out yet many entries mentioned him being more than eager to go back at it again.

The Arbitrator never fully described them in his writings detail but the casualties he tallied were abysmal with thousands being killed in the opening encounters. The drawings did a better job described the monstrous horrors he faced and the grim bleakness of the places he's traversed in. The Underworld might as well be a kid's playground to him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The road ahead became too quiet for the Batman's taste. He was beginning to feel that he made a wrong turn somewhere. He began to feel that he had made a mistake. The trail getting cold and there were hardly any clues left for him to work with. The Arbitrator's party might as well have been miles ahead of him despite their obvious injuries.

The Batman's stubbornness denied him any doubts and pushed himself forward at a quickened pace. He could only hope that he doesn't come across one of their bodies around the corner soon or worse, got captured by the Cultists. It didn't take long for him to encounter some of them when he entered a large chamber.

The chamber was large with over a dozen pillars scattered about. Half of them were broken to disrepair. Eroded to the point that they exposed rusty metal poles inside. Others had already fallen to pieces and the metal within were naught but dust. The Batman could almost hear the remaining pillars groan under the weight. Give another decade or so and the entire chamber will collapse in on itself.

The Cultists were in no better shape. Fresh wounds and bruises pocked their body like a plague. The three of them left standing struggled to stay on their feet as they bled from under their filthy rags. There were others too but these ones were curled up on the side and dead from wounds similar to what the Batman saw back in the crossroads. The Arbitrator and the others were here recently and these curs just happened to know where they are.

"Alright, which one of you'z ain't dead?" A voice echoed from around a corner.

"Barely!" One voice called out with a quivering voice. "But I think I want to."

"Fuckoff, sod." The first one cut him off followed by a kick. "Quit being a drama queen."

"Son of a bitch!" a second voice cried out.

"You're far from being dead 'fore I'm through with you. Get your ass up, Gregor. We still got work to do."

"We just got our asses kicked here, Gil." Gregor whined. "Jorgie, Gunnar, Ally, Eggo, and Lany're probably dead. Oh, and my arm's bent in the WRONG FUCKING WAY! So how in the Hell are we any fit to go after that Red-eyed freak?"

"Like this." Gil replied. A loud sound of a limb snapping echoed in the chamber. Followed by an agonizing scream.

"JESUS CHRIST!" Gregor hollered in pain. "AAAGH! The fuck was that for?"

"I just fucking fixed you, you ungrateful piece of shit." Gil shot back. "I lost my fucking right ear. How the fuck do you fix that? So get your ass up 'fore Blackfyre skins us alive!"

Ed kicked Gregor harder. It didn't take much for Gregor to get the big picture. Despite the pain, he forced himself to stand up before Ed would get a chance to kick him again. Gregor was in no position to fight back.

And get the fuck up, Marko, you lazy son of a bitch." Gil kicked another man on the ground. "I know you're not dead yet. I smell you pissing yourself just now."

"Fuck. Not again." Marko groaned as he felt the warm mess he made trickling down of his pants. On the bright side, at least he felt warmer now given the usual chill air permeating in the Underworld. On the embarrassing side, Marko stepped on someone's limb and fell over with a cry while feeling the bruises on his sides crushing him from the inside. "Why're you going crazy over what old Blackfyre has ta say? The old man's at the end of his rope last I heard. Sick over some flu or from something he caught from some broad, am I right? Haha"

"YOU! WILL! NOT! SPEAK! OF! THE! PROPHET! LIKE THAT!" Gil shouted and struck the boy clear in the face.

"Any of you got a light?" Marko asked behind gritted teeth.

"Am on it." Gregor answered as he set up his tools to make a torch.

Gregor pulled out a thin plank of wood sticking out from one of his comrades. He then tore a long piece of cloth from his shirt and tied it at the tip. Now the hard part was igniting the damn thing because of his broken arm that made it damn useless. He kept the torch up with his feet while striking a match from its box. The matchstick sparked and smoked but not long enough to light up the whole torch. It was like watching an ape open a banana albeit minus the entertainment value.

"Gimme that!" Gil shouted impatiently and pulled the torch from Gregor. "I'll die from old age 'fore you turn that on."

Gil fumbled in his pockets and got his own lighter. After no more than two strikes, sight finally returned to the three vagabonds in the warrens of the Underworld. The three men squinted at the sight after being denied of it for what felt like a lifetime but they never turned away from its warmth and its light. For fear that they would soon be denied of it once again.

The torch lit the entire chamber for them and revealed the carnage surrounding the three men. The massacre that they barely survived from. Their disdain and anger with each other from earlier quickly mellowed down and turned morose the moment they saw the bodies of their dead. What was even more painful to watch was their friends who were breathing their last as they laid dying in front of them. Marko thought it best to close his brother's deadpan eyes as to make his death look more peaceful than when he first saw it.

"Let's get out of here." Gil said. His voice quivered for a bit but quickly grasped it before it spilled.

Gil turned around with the torch in hand and led the others the way out towards an opposite tunnel. The procession quickly halted after a few steps however. The moment Gil saw an imposing shadow right front of him. A shadow was unlike the ones around him as it did not retreat from his torch's light. It must be no more than his mind playing tricks or his own imagination as the shadow remained even as he pointed his torch right at it.

To the surprise and immediate horror of the three cultists, the shadow came to life and grew larger as their fear and imagination took hold of them. What they saw in front of them was a creature. A creature with two pale white eyes that materialized from thin air behind a dark veil of shadow with long tendrils akin to long flowing hair dancing from an unfelt breeze.

Tales of the Batman were as prevalent amongst the squatters of the Underworld as they are in the streets of Gotham. The difference being their depiction of the Dark Knight is equal as one would see and fear the devil himself. Even more so because they believed him to be the actual devil of their already bastardized religion. They saw him as a Wraith. A Specter that prowl the tunnels that hunted the faithless and the weak as they put it. He Who Dwelled In Shadow. They believed this legend so much so that the denizens feared the dark even more than the outsiders and huddled around what little light they could muster for themselves.

Such was the case for Gil when the Batman grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up in the air. He had his torch but not as a weapon but something akin to how one would hold a crucifix against the Devil. He'd never dare strike the Batman but instead used it to shield himself away from him and the darkness he displayed. This revealed the Batman's face however and this was much more terrifying for the sniveling vagabond.

The other two could do nothing more but prostate themselves with their heads on the ground and prayed to the Batman for mercy. Either way, all of these fell on deaf ears but the Batman played the part either way since the illusion it gave of him helped in getting answers. A factor made more efficient due to their overly superstitious nature.

"Tell me about the Arbitrator." The Batman glowered with a deep voice.

"T-t-t-the who?" Gil stuttered and avoided the Bat's gaze.

The Batman dropped Gil on the floor between the two kneeling men.

"The one who did this. The one you were after. WHERE IS HE?"

The Batman's voice, though not loud, was powerful enough to boom throughout the entire chamber. The vagabonds tremble in fear at his presence and could do little else but obey.

"I-Is that what he's called?" Marko asked only to fall silent when the Bat glared at him.

"It was crazy." Gregor said. "Thought it was gonna be easy at first. Caught wind of them down the tunnel near Slum's field. There were 'bout 40 or something of us at first. and we chased them now. But these ones were smart. They knew. Looked like they knew the place as well as we did. Had us go round in circles and had us guessing which tunnel to take. Widdled us down to 'round 16 on one turn. Then down to 8 after another. But that's when they stopped running. Didn't even see them coming till we hit the ground."

"They ambushed you." The Batman summarized.

The Batman looked at the pillars in the chamber. It was a perfect place for the act for unsuspecting goons. Judging by the positions of the bodies scattered around him, the Arbitrator and the Officers attacked from three different sides of the chamber.

"Ya." Gregor nodded feverishly. "Jumped out from nowhere. 'Specially the big one. The one with the red eye. He shouted 'fore he lit up his hammer and smashed us to paste. Kinda something like what Prophet Blackfyre says in his sermons. Anywho, he went after Eggo and Gunnar cuz they had the lights. Struck us all blind after that. Didn't fire no shot the entire time either. None of them did. They just kept whacking us till we're black and blue."

"Yeah, why is that?" Marko asked.

"They didn't shoot as not to reveal their presence to your _friends_. Smart." The Batman commented.

"They beat us down like damn dogs eitha way. With the butt of their guns. T-the cops I mean. Sounded like they liked doing it too." Marko found the nerve to speak out. "But not. Not like the other one. The big one with the red eye. Now that one. That one was no man. That one's a Demon. Terrifying and strong. Strong enough to lift a man with one arm while striking throwing a man across the room with another. H-he isn't human. He gave me the shivers just thinking about it."

"What were these words he yelled?" The Batman asked. "The one you said that was like what Blackfyre might say."

"I dunno. I don't remember. Believe me." Gregor raised his hands defensively but the Batman's glare pushed him to remember. "He says, 'Victoire aut Mortis'. I don't know what it means."

"I never expected you to." The Batman retorted.

"A new demon walks in our unholy halls." Gil mumbled to no one in particular. He spoke like he was in a trance "Second only to the devil but more terrifying than thou. He is unstoppable for no earthly weapon could slay him. Whether it be of stone, wood, or stone. The End is nigh and he is the harbinger. The second coming is here. I hear THEM speaking to me. I hear Him seeping into my wounds."

"Where is he now?" The Batman ignored the madman's rantings and asked the boy, but Marko looked away.

He then looked to Eli, but the man was still petrified and struggled to speak a word. Let alone breathe. All that was left for him was the decrepit old Gregor. He felt a twang of pity towards the already battered men and would have hated to have to beat them senseless for information he sorely needed. Much to the Batman's good fortune, the old man thought it wise to speak out.

"I think…I think I saw them go off. Off to the Western tunnel." Gregor spoke. "I heard them say something about the exit. Going off to find the exit."

"Which way would they take?"

"I-I dunno. I swear!" Gregor said as he began urinating on himself. Life in utter darkness gave them a good sense of direction but it gave them a bad sense of distance.

An echo of gunshots erupted from afar. The sounds came from the Western Tunnel. The sounds were faint but they were loud enough to startle the three men and made them jump from their seats. By the time they opened their eyes, the Batman had already gone. None of them noticed the man's disappearance out of their own fear and said nor spoke nothing more until the torch burned down to Gil's hands. Something that happened after the better part of the hour later.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Batman immediately raced to down the Western Tunnel the moment he heard the first shots. The gunshots continued as the Batman ran down the winding tunnels. Thanks to the sonars imbedded in his cowl, he was able to accurately pinpoint the source of the gunfire and raced towards its direction.

None of it gave him any relief however. The Arbitrator and the Officers must have been desperate if they risked being discovered by discharging their weapons. To fire their weapons frantically showed their desperation. Revealing the great danger they found themselves in. Every shot only forced the Batman to push himself faster. Almost praying that he makes it in time. The sounds were louder now but the Batman knew that he was frankly nowhere near the source.

In his haste, the Batman never realized that the empty halls were once again eerily silent. The sonar had nothing left to pick up on save for the water gurgling at his legs and the soft trickling water inside the pipes. To make matters worse, the Batman found himself in a Fork on the road with no way of knowing where to go to next. There was also not a clue in the area that he could use to track the Arbitrator and the two Officers. One wrong move in the wrong tunnel would kill the trail cold and the chance of him finding anyone would go down the drain.

The Batman would have spent a longer time in that Fork if it were not for something he noticed about the water around him. It was stagnant for quite a time now and filthy with garbage of all shapes and sizes bobbing on top of it. But then the garbage started moving towards the tunnel on the left. Even the garbage from the tunnel behind the Batman and from the tunnel on the right was floating towards the tunnel on the left. The water was as high as his leg when he first dropped into the Fork but now it was decreasing at a fast rate down to his knees. The current also flowed towards the tunnel on the left.

It was not much to work with, but it was enough to convince the Batman that the left tunnel was the right path for him to take. Given the fact that the Underworld is a rotten and abandoned place, only an outside force could make a drastic change in its pace. Something happened at the end of this tunnel that was the cause of the draining water. It was here he would find the Arbitrator. A chance that he was wrong never crossed his mind as he was ready to bet it all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The muddy river of muck and scum led to another spacious chamber with a sizeable hole on the floor somewhere in the middle. Streams of water and filth from all 4 corners from 4 opposite tunnels met and spilled into the endless pit below.

The hole was not made by any industrial tool nor was it done in part of the sewer's construction. It was made only recently since the broken stones lacked any signs of erosion from the passing water as well as hastily due to the lack of order and uniformity in its making. Instead, the Batman concluded that it was made by some powerful creature with the strength to break through concrete and have sizeable claws that could easily scratch stones. A few rogues came to mind, but the Batman didn't want to jump to conclusions just yet until he had substantial evidence. That all changed until he found a something seated on the corner nearby.

The Batman turned on his thermal vision and approached the person. He sighed when he found no sign of any heat signatures on the body. Another dead man. After a closer look through his night vision however, the Batman saw something that made him step back in shock. The body was Officer Stanley Kitch of the Gotham SWAT Team.

The man sat leaning on the side with his face bruised and makeshift bandages tied around him. His Kevlar had deep scratches on it with some pieces of reptilian claws stuck on the armor. This effect was similar to the scratches the Batman found on the walls around him. The large bite mark that tore off the man's shoulder helped narrow down the one responsible for the mess.

"Killer Croc." The Batman said.

Evolution took a big step backwards when making this piece of work and made him into a monster. Sated only by cannibalistic hunger and driven by feral instinct. It was a miracle that creature is still able to talk. A fact that surprised the Bat on his first encounter with the beast. Unsurprisingly, the Underworld would be a perfect home for this creature.

One piece of evidence did surprise the Bat was the fact that Officer Kitch wasn't killed by Killer Croc. The Croc did take a large chunk off of the man after all but this didn't finish him off. Painful no doubt and infectious no less, but it wasn't what killed him. Officer Kitch was killed by a knife in the heart and the Batman knows that Killer Croc doesn't use any weapon that wasn't sticking out of him. The Officer's Kevar was zipped open and was stabbed straight in the chest with an 8 inch knife. Done in one smooth move. This had the Arbitrator's hands all over it.

It was only a matter of whether or not any of them are still alive however. The Batman must go down that hole and ask the Killer Croc himself if he's eaten them or not. It wasn't the best plan nor was it the safest bet, but it was the closest way of finding out the truth.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The fall was much shorter than what the Batman expected and he found himself in a large wide tunnel. A storm drain with stomach high water coursing fast like a river downstream. The noise from the water pouring on him from above made his sonar senses close to being useless. Thermal would also be of no use against a cold blood like Croc so the Batman settled for his night vision. It didn't take much time to find Killer Croc though. The Batman easily found him leaning heavily next to a wall half submerged in the water.

The Beast was as exhausted as he was wounded. Blood spilled from his mouth as he struggled for heavy breaths. Some of the teeth from his monstrous jaws were shattered and bloodied. His armored plates were cracked and chipped with more blood seeping through. Black marks from possible burns and bullet holes pocked his leather skin. The worst of his injuries was shown when he raised his left arm and showed the large chunk that was missing from his left hand. The wound has taken everything save for his index and his thumb. The bleeding has stopped but it left the hand still fresh and meaty. Only time will tell whether or not Killer Croc's healing factor includes regenerating lost limbs.

Killer Croc took notice of the Bat and growled as he rose up from the murky water at full height. The Beast towered over the Batman with his bright yellow eyes. All 7 and a half feet of scales, leather, and teeth. A magnificent specimen of wonder for any man of science.

The Beast looked at the Batman hungrily while the latter stared at him indifferently. The Batman was unmoved by its show of force but kept his guard up regardless. Namely by grabbing hold of his batarangs hidden under his cloak. Despite defeating the Killer Croc many times, the monster was still twice his size and could rip his head off with a swing from his massive arms.

" **Hell you want, Bat?"** Killer Croc snarled with a gravelly voice. His voice sounded tired and was coarser than usual.

"Answers. You attacked Police Officers as well as a very important individual." The Batman accused. "I need to find them and now."

" **Yeah."** Killer Croc grinned as he licked his lips. **"Took a bite outta one of them too. Very tasty.**

The Batman grimaced and cracked his knuckles. Disgusted by Killer Croc's vilest and most revolting desires, he almost gave in to his own desire to beat the answers out of Killer stayed his hand however and stood strong. Questions are surer to answer from a more cooperating foe.

"But you didn't finish him off." The Batman asked. "You never got to any of them. Because you'd otherwise be bragging about it right now."

" **Yea, I would. Neva got da chance**." Killer Croc glowered. " **Red eyed bastard got 'n 'da way**."

"Where is he now?" The Batman pressed. "The man with the Red eye."

Killer Croc snarled but the truth was hard to deny as it laid bare. He raised his mangled hand for the Batman to see.

" **Gave me this.** " Killer Croc gritted his teeth. " **'E didn't taste gud eitha."**

"He's called the Arbitrator." The Batman said. "What happened to him?"

" **So yer gonna go after 'im yerself, eh?"** Killer Croc chuckled gutturally. " **Good luck ta ya. You gonna let me go if I do?"**

"I might consider it."

" **Hmmmm. Dey was here, alrite. Went ta my spot while I was sleepin'. Clamor'n an' splash'n round like brats. Dey're argu'n 'bout somef'n. Wasn't pay'n 'ttention. I dunno. But I got hungry. So I snuck up on im unda wata. Dey didn' see me at first cuz dey was bicker'n. But dey 'came quiet sudd'nly. Dey all kept an eye out. Dat Arby-th'n 'specially. I fink 'e saw me. 'E was looking at me somehow but I do know tha' 'is eye went red. Lit up. So I moved fast an' went fer 'im furst. I surprised 'im from 'da back. Den i chomped 'im 'n his shoulda.**

Killer Croc paused to spit out a handful of broken teeth before continuing.

" **Dat wun was a tuff nut ta krack. Smashed ma best teef afta da first bite, y'see. But I kept a good hold uv 'im an' dragged and clobba'd 'im inna wata. Bastard didn't hold off or nothin' an' fought bak da hole time. Had ta let 'im go quik 'cos the other two koppas shot atta me so I throwed da Arby-th'n off hard ta a wall. Den I went afta 'dose otha' two. Koppas was good. Dey shot me loads 'a times. Koppas wer' fast. 'Ad me scratch'n all ova da walls tryin' ta hit wun uv im. I sliced wun uv 'der guns in two den punched 'im. Da otha Koppa clobba'd me wid 'is gun. All dat did wuz gettin' 'im close for me ta take a big chomp off a 'im."**

Killer Croc licked his lips and revealed his savage yellow teeth pocked with dried blood. The Batman glowered as he watched the Croc's satisfaction glimmer from the monster's eyes. His hold on his batarangs tightened in fuming anger at the thought of Killer Croc eating human flesh. His grip on his weapons went to the point that his fingers began to bleed. Ignorant of the Batman's boiling fury, Killer Croc continued his story.

" **I got da otha Koppa's gun 'fore 'e could shoot me den I clawed 'im outta da way. Did'n know if I got 'im deep but it sent 'im splashin in da pool. Was 'bout ta finish 'im off too wen dat Arby-fella came about. 'E called me a, "Filthy Mutant" an' I autta, "Take a bite outta dis!" or somefin. Fore I knew it, 'e blew me hand ta bits wid 'is gun. Hurt's like a bitch and me ears got hurtin' cuz da gunshot was so loud. Me ears were still ringin' wen he clobbered me wid 'is club. 'is blows wer tuffer dan I thought from da pipsqueak. Now dis Arby-fella. Bastard can take a hit. Punched 'im 'ard inna 'ead loads a times. Sounded like a gong evry time. He shuvved 'is club in me mouth, looked at me inna eye den said, 'Choke on dis' 'fore da club lit up in blew den zapped me inna mouth. It burned like hell. Still hurts too. I kicked 'im offa me but he shot at me again wid a bigga one. Slower one too. I got ta smack it ta da floor but da shot blew up unda me. Sent me crashin down 'ere. Lucky me dat da current wuz fierce cuz wun ov dem dropped a pineapple after me. Shuld be dat Arby-feller. Wuz up river while it went boom downstream. Dat wuz good enuff fer dem I rekon. Wuz down 'ere lickin' me wounds till you came droppin' by."**

Both men fell silent after Killer Croc has said his peace. The Batman glared at Killer Croc and surmised that the beast told him all that he knew and held nothing back. Truth be told, Killer Croc made for a terrible liar. He exaggerates his stories for sure. But he would never lie. Especially not to him.

" **You got watcha want, Bat?"** Killer Croc asked.

"More or less, Croc." The Batman replied.

" **Can I go now?"** Killer Croc stood.

"Not yet." The Batman stopped him with a gesture. "I want to know how to get out of here."

" **Hmpf."** Killer Croc scoffed. **"Thought 'oo was 'ere ta look fer dem? Now ya wanna get out?"**

"The Arbitrator and Officer Allen are looking for the exit." The Batman explained. "I find the exit then there's no need to waste time finding them."

" **Der be three ways outta 'ere from 'ere. All uv dem goes far apart. How can ya tell if dat Arby-fella goes da way ya want?"**

"Let's just say that I know that the Arbitrator has a good sense of direction. He'll go for the closest exit that's far from the Cultist's reach. So are you gonna tell me? Or am I going to have to beat it out of you?"

" **Closest wun iz goin' down dis tunnel an' outta da storm drain. Otha wun on da north gows rite above da Cultist's Home Turf. Wouldn't wanta go der less yar reely deprate. Prefer followin' da path inna east an' it'll take ya ta da uppa levels. Just find wateva' drain ya can find den yer outta 'ere."**

Little did Killer Croc know that the Batman had already disappeared by the time he stopped talking. When the Batman decided to do that was beyond him. Apart from humiliating him by leaving him talking to himself like an idiot, none of that mattered to him at all. Killer Croc was simply relieved to be rid of him as well as being glad that the Batman kept his promise. He shuddered the thought of being locked in Arkham again. The food they served there were simply terrible and many nights were spent starving in the confines of his cell.

The very thought of food alone made his stomach grumble ravenously. He was denied a good meal after his battle with the Arbitrator so his hunger was insatiable to the point of discomfort. The only thing to match this was the injuries the bastard gave him. Injuries that will limit his ability to hunt for some time. It will take weeks for his hand to grow back. Looks like he had to settle for scraps for the time being.

Something in the air made his nose twitch and his eyes widen with glee. There was a faint scent of blood coursing in the air. Fresh blood. The very thoughts of the meal awaiting him were too much for Killer Croc to bear. His bloodlust drowned his mind with feral instincts and his voracious hunger unleashed the beast within him. Killer Croc climbed out of the hole just as a large group of Cultists made their way into the same chamber. Armed with nothing more than makeshift weapons out of scrap, wood, and glass, these poor souls made for an easy meal. A feast that was long delayed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While the scent of blood triggered Killer Croc's bloodlust, it was the sound of gunfire that set off the Batman. He was on his way into the eastern tunnel before the first shots were fired. The shots were echoing from the eastern tunnel which meant that he was on the right path to the Arbitrator. While it was good news for the Batman, the same could be said for the Cultists who now know where they were.

The Arbitrator's party kicked the hornet's nest that sent every Cultist in the Underworld in a frenzy. The Batman could hear the Cultists' uproar of cheers, wild hollering, and boisterous gunfire all around him coming from the other tunnels. Like roaches, mobs of Cultists emerged from every opening imaginable. From the cracks behind shadows, to the dugout holes on the floors, and out the tunnels en masse. The Batman was forced into a situation where he was forced to fight them off while at the same time had to move forward to meet up with the Arbitrator's group.

The Cultists were easily taken down after one hit but the fact that there were many of them in his way delayed him and wasted precious minutes beating them down. They swarmed at him like moths to a flame. Dozens of hands emerged from the shadows and grabbed the Batman while beating, biting, and clawing him like wild animals. They succeeded in pulling his cape and pinning him to the ground while continuing an onslaught of attacks from both their fists and their weapons. Spitting, cursing, and swearing him after every strike.

"DEATH TO THE DEVIL! DEATH TO THE SHADOWS! SALVATION TO THE FORSAKEN!"  
"DEMON! DEVIL! BASTARD! WHORESON! CUNT!"  
"THE UNDERWORLD BELONGS TO US! ITS PEOPLE, TO BLACKFYRE!"

The Batman was vulnerable to both their fists and their words but thankfully his armored suit and cowl took the brunt of their attacks. It did little to get him up his feet however since the Cultists still had their hands on him. Thankfully the Cultists were an undisciplined rabble.

Cultists who weren't within reach to attack the Batman, were beginning to attack the ones who were so they could get their hands in beating up the Batman themselves. They began fighting each other to the point that some of the Cultists holding the Batman down were pulled out of the way to make room for the newcomers. This of course gave the Batman an opening he was beginning to desperately need.

Reaching into his utility belt, the Batman unleashed a thick cloud of tear gas that incapacitated the Cultists around him. With more room to maneuver, he easily overpowered the disoriented mob with a flurry of blows that took down every Cultist that got in his way one after the other.

With his belt in hand, the Batman deployed gadgets and weapons that took the rest of the Cultists. Smoke pellets incapacitated them easily as they collapsed in the ground coughing their lungs out. Flashbangs blinded them and left them inanely wandering the dark in panic. Batarangs sliced and cut them at every throw and left them crying on the floor bleeding. Every swing of his fist, every kick, every move he pulled sent every mad eyed cultist within reach bleeding on the corner beside him.

As astonishing as the Batman's ability to take out many of the enemy in quick succession, this did little to stem the surging tide of Cultists who were charging in at him from the dark. Fresh troops spewed out from the nearby tunnels and surrounded the Dark Knight. There were nearing close to a hundred as their lines trickled out of the tunnels.

Hopeless as all of this would seem for the Batman, the Cultists on the front unexpectedly stopped on their tracks just a few meters away from the grim avenger. The looks on their faces under the light of their torches looked hesitant and confused. Not one of them dared to take another step.

They dared not move since they have come face to face to the true power of the Batman.

Fear

An art the Batman has mastered to perfection. A weapon him an advantage over the largest of foes. A cautionary tale that kept criminals in line. A tale that made him into a monster that made even the hardiest of men fear the shadows.

To the mob of Cultists barring his way however, they saw something more than just fear. What they saw was absolute terror. The Batman stood alone in the tunnel but surrounding him were over dozens of their comrades to the point that they were piled on each other like mounds. Some were unconscious but most of them were injured, beaten, and battered. How these men and women wished that these people were the latter.

Their comrade's painful moans and weeping cries made for a haunting thing to hear. Their chorale of suffering echoed throughout the Underworld. A myriad of voices speaking their woes, weeping prayers, bleeding laments, and all. Every vagabond began hearing it from the walls as though it spoke. Or like ghosts who whispered from behind their very ears.

The mob of Cultists standing before the Batman however had it much worse. Apart from taking the brunt of their comrades' horrid wails, they also smelled their stink of blood, the putrid stench of their feces, and the reek of trickling piss that soaked the ground beneath their very feet. Their terror were so intense that the newcomers themselves started soiling their own pants as the cowered in the spot.

"Who's next?" The Batman calmly challenged.

Like an avalanche, the Cultists fled his presence. They ran as fast as their legs could take them. Their commotion started a stampede that stepped on and crushed on their own comrades as they began squeezing and piling on each other through the narrow tunnels to escape. They clawed, they struck, and they burned their own comrades just so they could escape what they perceived to be the devil who they thought was hot on their heels.

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They will hide in their hovels and cowered in the face of any shadow that came their way. They will gather among their campfires and tell others of the time they witnessed the Batman himself in all his terrifying glory. They will tell stories will spread like wildfire in their thoughts and in their nightmares while keeping the grim legend of the Batman alive. They will know fear and respect the Batman for it.

The road ahead was clear and so the Batman moved out. Any more bands of Cultists that come across him ran the other way screaming or bowed down and cowered in his presence. The gunfire from the Arbitrator's end persisted but they were beginning to sound scarce. Time was running out. The Batman could only hurry his pace and pray that the Arbitrator and the others make it out alive.

It didn't take long for him to start hearing their voices echoing from afar. Along with a loud clang that the Batman assumed was the Arbitrator's mace. A good sign for the time being.

" **Filthy mongrels! Run back to your hovels! Run back to the dark! That's all you're good at**!"

The Batman assumed that it was the Arbitrator shouting and taunting the Cultists he was in combat with. He had to admit that he admired the boy's ferocity and defiance against the face of the odds stacked against him.

" **The only thing you have in common with your gods is your worth! Nothing! The Emperor accepts all! He is willing to forgive! All it will cost is your life! Ave Deus Imperator!** "

The Batman started coming across the fruits of the Arbitrator's handiwork. The man left behind many bodies scattered along the tunnel. Like a trail of breadcrumbs paved the way for him. Though some of the people were left for dead, many were battered and injured who struggled to crawl as they writhed in the ground.

The sounds of battle and the inaudible shouting had ominously ceased however. He was beginning to fear for the worst the moment he arrived in a large tunnel chock-full of bodies. The smell of blood and gunpowder permeated the air as the bodies of Cultists – both dead and barely alive –stacked upon each other in piles.

Carefully, the Batman treaded around the bodies and soon found the Arbitrator sitting in the middle of the tunnel with his mace twirling between his hands. He was no more than a silhouette hunched over but the moment the Batman stepped forward, a bright red light lit up from the man's face before it sat upright. Almost as if the man was waiting there for the Batman to appear.

What one sees in reality is always more surprising than what one tends to imagine. The Arbitrator was everything the Batman had expected. The man before the Bat was everything as formidable and fearsome looking as what he's heard from the others. They were also accurate with how they depicted the man's red eye. It DID make him look like a demon and the Batman felt a pang of discomfort being looked at it.

What the Batman didn't picture was the sheer brutality that the Arbitrator went through. Blood trickled down the man like it fell on him like rain. His armor was dented, chipped and unkempt with large gashes scratched on it. The smell the man gave out could only be described as putrid and out of this world. But none of that compared to this sinister aura the man was emitting. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it felt unnatural.

The Arbitrator also made similar observations to the newcomer. His reaction was more hostile. As though he startled by the Bat's appearance. With a menacing growl, he forced himself up despite his visible exhaustion and possible injuries. He readied his weapons and stood tall to face the bat. The Batman could feel the sheer hatred coming from the Arbitrator's tone when the man spoke to him.

" **I knew they'd send someone bigger right about now.** " The Arbitrator venomously said. " **I didn't expect they'd send their best.** "

"I am not one of them." The Batman replied.

" **I wouldn't think so either.** " The Arbitrator grimly chuckled. " **Your lot are too proud to put yourselves with this scum's level.** "

The Arbitrator pointed at one of the injured cultists on the ground. To further his point, the Arbitrator motioned to stomp the life out of the man. A batarang got in the way of that and unbalanced the Arbitrator when it struck him in the foot. The Batman didn't give the Arbitrator a chance to recover and immediately gored the man. He disarmed the Arbitrator from his mace and pinned him in place on a wall with his arm barring the Arbitrator's throat.

"STOP!" The Batman shouted. "I'm putting a stop to this! Stand down and come peacefully before I make you."

Try as he might, the Arbitrator did not falter in the face of the fearsome glare of the Batman. It was clear that the man was not intimidated by neither him nor his threats. The only thing the Batman did in his vain attempt to disarm the situation was making the Arbitrator angry.

" **GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF ME, NIGHT LORD!** " The Arbitrator screamed.

The Arbitrator fiercely grabbed the Batman's bracers with an unexpected unnatural strength. So much so that the Batman could hear his bracers slowly being crushed under the weight of the man's fingertips. Struggle as he might, the Arbitrator was easily prying the Batman's arm off of from his neck. A few more seconds and he perceived that it was possible for the Arbitrator to snap his arm in two.

The Batman began with a series of kicks aimed to the Arbitrator's sides but every hit felt like he was hitting a brick wall. The Arbitrator struggled but held firm before the Batman punched him straight in the unarmored part of his face. It dazed the Arbitrator for a moment but quickly countered by kicking the Batman off of him. The kick was stronger than the grip as it sent the Batman crashing into the other wall.

The Batman got up just in time to dodge the fist that just imbedded itself in a wall. He tried striking back while the Arbitrator was stuck on the wall but the man freed himself by crushing the wall like cardboard and threw rubble at the Batman followed by a punch. The Batman dodged these unconventional attacks and quickly leapt backwards. Widening the distance between the two of them.

"You're strong." The Batman mused.

" **Don't patronize me, heretic.** " The Arbitrator spat. " **I can't think of a worse insult.** "

The Arbitrator's unnatural aura from earlier suddenly became stronger as though the air around him started to feel heavy. Near suffocating to the point of discomfort and a twitch of fear in the end of his fingertips. All of these were easily handled by the Batman as his will and his mind was too disciplined and honed to falter against tricks like this. Despite this, it was still something he couldn't ignore entirely.

"What are you?" The Batman couldn't help but ask. It was the same question that has plaguing him since he first laid eyes on him back in the park. Despite all he's accumulated from the Journal, from other witnesses, and from what he's seen right now; the answer continued to elude him.

" **Judgement**." The Arbitrator said before throwing an electric bolas at him.

The Batman quickly ducked to dodge the projectile but this left himself open to the Arbitrator who swung wide for his head. He barely had time to dodge this attack when it struck him. It clipped his head but thankfully the fist only grazed him by the brow.

The Arbitrator's attacks were heavy and parted the air as it passed but due to the man's exhaustion, these strikes were surprisingly slow. This enabled the Batman to nimbly dodge the Arbitrator's strikes as they danced in combat along the tunnel. The Arbitrator in turn was not able to land a single hit on the Batman. The Caped Crusader was too fast for him and was clearly more skillful. With every strike the Arbitrator made, the Batman was able to hit him with three.

The Arbitrator changed tactics and tried grabbing him for a grappling move but the Batman was still one step ahead of him. The Batman kept his distance and struck back with lightning speed to whatever opening. He also easily countered the Arbitrator's own attacks with quick grapple moves that made openings for surgical strikes that struck the man's pressure points.

It was too soon to call the fight one sided despite the obvious advantage the Batman has over the Arbitrator. Battles are won when one of them is beaten or has surrendered. The Arbitrator however wasn't showing any signs of backing down. The Arbitrator remained unfazed despite facing the brunt of these attacks. Whether it was out of will or out of stubbornness, the man persevered and kept going as though none of the Batman's attacks had any effect. The Batman also realized that he barely left a dent in the Arbitrator's armor.

A change in tactics is in order and the first step in doing it was aimed towards taking off the Arbitrator's helmet. The Batman deployed smoke grenades and followed with a flurry of batarangs that struck the Arbitrator in the arms, chest, and his helmet. Save for one that weakly embedded itself on his belt, the rest of the batarangs harmlessly fell on the floor.

" **You're fast, Night Lord**." The Arbitrator said between heavy breaths before spitting out blood to the side. He plucked out the batarang and crushed it to pieces before tossing it to the ground. " **But your toys are as cheap as your faith, Blasphemer. Any more tricks to disappoint me with?** "

"Just one more." The Batman nonchalantly replied before flipping a switch.

The discarded batarangs scattered around the Arbitrator's feet activated and sent one powerful surge of a high frequency sonic boom. The Arbitrator immediately fell on his knees and covered his ears while he cried out in pain. His hands were madly shaking and his senses were out of control to the point that he vomited in the floor.

" **What witchcraft is this?** " The Arbitrator cried as he struggled to get up on his feet.

The Batman didn't satisfy him with an answer. He didn't even give the Arbitrator an opportunity to recover as he swooped in and tackled him to the ground. Pinning the Arbitrator in place, the Batman punched the Arbitrator in the exposed part of his face before he pried the helm off of him. The moment he did however, the Arbitrator kicked the Batman off of him and followed it by a solid punch that sent the Batman skidding on the floor a few meters away.

It costed the Batman a tooth but his attempt had costed the Arbitrator of his helm. This gave the Batman a significant advantage over his foe. Without the helm, the Arbitrator was now devoid of any abilities that it gave him. Most notably, the ability to see in the dark. The shadows were once again in the Batman's side and he melded into its cold embrace.

On a plus note, the Arbitrator was now a softer target now without his helm. Taking him down wouldn't be much of a problem for the Batman anymore. But despite all of these advantages arrayed before him like a thanksgiving feast, the Batman hesitated. The Batman waited. There was still many things he didn't know about the Arbitrator. For all he knew, the Arbitrator might have a trick or two in his sleeve.

Given his record, the only advantage the Arbitrator had over him was his willingness to kill. A skill that the man was quite capable of pulling off if the Batman wasn't careful. One wrong move from his end, and the Arbitrator CAN kill him.

And so the Batman stuck in the shadows from a safe distance. There he watched the Arbitrator get up on his feet and listened to his rants. There he waited. At the same time he studied the Arbitrator. He observed this man and wondered just what kind of person he is.

"Typical for a Night Lord. To dwell in the shadows." The Arbitrator stated venomously. "Hiding like the gutless Salvar that you are. You who abandoned His Light shall ever know only Darkness."

The Batman was no more than an arm's length from the man but was careful with keeping up with the illusion. Even when the Batman saw the Arbitrator stumble on his mace and picked it up. The Batman motioned to move but saw the Arbitrator collapse the baton and holster it in his belt.

"You are the most craven of His Legions." The Arbitrator saidcoldly. "Mediocre. Cowards without honor Fear is your true calling. Your weapon. As if you were good for anything else. Fear. For the faint of heart it may strike true, but not to me. I have nothing to fear for I have faith. For the Emperor is with me. So you have already lost this fight, Night Lord. You have damned yourself from His love. But I will be more than happy to convert you. Allow me to show you the Emperor's Light!"

The Arbitrator suddenly turned to face the Batman and viciously grabbed him in the throat before lifting him up a foot from the ground. The Batman was shocked. He didn't expect the Arbitrator to be able to see him in the dark. Let alone catch him off guard. He found these answers the moment he came face to face with the Arbitrator's horrid scarred snarling face and a right eye that began to glow a sinister crimson red.

The eye was bionic but it wasn't the type that the Batman could stare in awe and wonder. Instead, the Arbitrator's eye was a gruesome display of science and medicine that looked like it was sloppily hammered down onto the boy's skull. They were nothing like the simple and compact augmetics made by the scientists of Wayne Enterprises. The lenses were too big and the mechanism used for this one were bulky and large that it almost took up a quarter of man's face.

A second it costed him and a second was all the Arbitrator needed to tip the scales back to his favor. Too engrossed by the Arbitrator's eye, the Batman was quickly blinded when it blasted him with a flash of bright light. His night vision goggles made things worse and left him blinded long enough for the Arbitrator to slug him in the chest with his mace. In addition to the blunt force damage, the mace also blasted him with a powerful surge of electricity that sent him crashing to the ground.

The Batman's armor thankfully lightened the blow but it still left him with a few cracked ribs and some bruises that will hurt in the morning. The armor also saved him from being electrocuted but it did short circuit some of his gadgets. That included all of his vision optics. That meant he was still blind even IF he got his eyes back. To add insult to injury, the mace damaged the bat logo on his chest.

On the bright side, the Batman was still conscious. All he needed to do was to buy himself time for his eyesight to get back and for his internal systems to reboot itself to full operation.

"Still awake I see." The Batman heard the Arbitrator say. He also heard the man's footsteps walking away before coming to a stop. No doubt went to retrieve his helmet before going back to him. "Appears the Emperor has seen it fit to keep you conscious as to allow you to hear your Judgement. Despite all your sacrilege and betrayals, the Emperor remains ever so generous."

"I've never betrayed anyone my entire life." The Batman found himself answering back.

"So you say." The Arbitrator replied dismissively. "But I don't care. You carry the burden of your Father's sins. That makes you a heretic. That makes you guilty. That makes you a traitor."

"My Father?" The Batman asked. The Arbitrator's words struck a chord with him. His thoughts of his father, Thomas Wayne, immediately came to mind. "What do you know of my father?"

The Batman's night vision was back online but his own vision were still blurry. He could barely make out the Arbitrator towering over him.

"There is not a single Adept who doesn't know about your Father. The founder of the 9th Legion. The Night Lords. His origins. His rise. His deeds." The Arbitrator said. "But every soul in the Imperium knows about him taking part of the greatest Heresy in existence as well his bloody legacy that left mountains of dead."

The Arbitrator finished off by pointing at the Batman as to show him that he was the fruit of his Father's legacy. Whatever that means.

"What are you talking about? What Heresy? What Legacy?" The Batman asked. More confused as ever. The noble image of his father were slowly torn apart. Despite this, the Batman stubbornly defended the name of Thomas Wayne. "My father has done so such thing! He was a good man. A man of the people. He saved many lives and was generous and loving to all. He was…is a good father."

"I am not surprised." The Arbitrator scoffed. "A thrall would always believe their masters to be just no matter the deed. Even if when treated like a pawn to their selfish machinations, you continue to revere them as though they were Sons of the Emperor himself."

The Arbitrator pointed his crackling blue mace at the Batman's face as though he was accusing him.

"Your Father, was an indecisive mad fool who became the very thing he swore to destroy. A weak man who fell prey to chaos and pledged himself to Enemy. He damned himself. He abandoned his kind. He betrayed the Emperor!"

"SHUT UP!" The Batman shouted.

His powerful voice echoed throughout the tunnels. So much so that even the moans and the cries of the injured cultists around them trembled and didn't dare say another note. Silence fell between the two afterwards to the point that one could hear a pin drop.

"You know nothing." The Batman soon spoke with a deep tone that could have frozen hell over.

"I know enough." The Arbitrator said. Completely unperturbed by the Batman's grim speech. He even sounded amused. "I know enough is that he is dead and will trouble no one anymore."

"I know." The Batman whispered. "I was there."

The memory of that night has never left the Batman. The day his parents died in some forgotten alleyway before his very eyes. He could still remember it as clear as day as though it happened just yesterday. It was there that this darkness in him first appeared. Eating away inside him. Growing ever so stronger in the passing years until Bruce Wayne was naught but a distant memory and left only the Dark Knight in what was left of his hollow shell.

The nightmare still persisted in his dreams however. Even until now.

"Then know his shame." The Arbitrator replied coldly. "And know that he died by our hands. And the rest of you will follow soon. I swear you that."

"LIKE HELL YOU WILL!" The Batman roared and leapt at the Arbitrator.

The Batman's usual cold and calculated demeanor were all but forgotten. His infamous discipline and silent brooding were thrown out the window. The Batman didn't hold back at every swing of his fist. He took the Arbitrator down and began pummeling him with wild abandon. The Arbitrator didn't leave himself open to the abuse. The man fought back and got to throw a few solid punches but in the face of the Batman's determined fury, he might as well be an ant against a giant boot. The Batman swept any attempts to get himself overpowered aside and broke the Arbitrator's arm so he wouldn't have that many problems as before as he continued his attack. He followed by tearing the Arbitrator's helm from him and used it to smash the boy's face to a bloodier pulp until the helm slipped from his hands.

Rage blinded the Batman more than the blood splattered on his own face. It blinded him from seeing that the Arbitrator was already knocked out and bleeding. Might have even gotten himself a concussion while in the middle of drowning in his own blood. The man was barely moving but Batman just kept on punching. It was one thing to insult the memory of his father but it was something else completely to threaten his family. He'd die before he'd let anyone harm the very people he loved. He even considered killing those responsible before they'd ever get a chance of doing it.

"Get off of him!" A voice called out from out of nowhere and pushed the Batman off of the Arbitrator. "Get me a medic here!"

Despite being shoved to the side, the Batman quickly rolled himself upright and took out a handful of batarangs at the ready. He was about to throw them to his unexpected assailant but held back the moment he saw that the man who interrupted him was none other than Officer Allen.

A squad of a dozen SWAT Officers armed to the teeth came with him led by Captain Sawyer. The woman wasted no time and ordered the Officers to secure the area before making a call to HQ about their findings. The medic busied himself with reviving the wounded Arbitrator while Officer Allen kneeled right next to him and tried to keep the Arbitrator from sleeping to an early grave.

Despite the sudden appearance of all these people, the Batman's attention was entirely focused on Officer Allen.

The Underworld has done a big number on the Officer. In a span of a couple of hours, the rookie now looked more like a grizzled war veteran. The Batman could already imagine the man earning his 1000 yard stare after the hell he's possibly gone through. His once pristine uniform looked like it got thrown in the meat grinder while splattered with a torrent of grime. It actually made him stick out like a sore thumb amongst his peers.

"Hey. Stay with me, man. It's me. It's Cris." Officer Allen said and lightly shaking the Arbitrator awake. "You told me to go but now I'm back. And…and I brought help. Can't leave a brother behind right? I'm a stubborn bastard. C'mon. Say it with me now, man. I'm a stubborn son of a bitch. I shot you remember? Back in the van. I fucking shot you, right? Stay with me, man. Your emperor's calling you!"

Officer Allen dropped everything what he was doing the moment the Batman stepped forward and pointed his gun at him. An insolent gesture and foolish move to be sure but Officer Allen appear to have conviction with what he was doing. His breathing were as steady as his aim. Officer Allen looked determined to shoot the Batman without hesitation if the Dark Knight ever give him a reason to. The Batman also sensed the absence of fear in the man. An absent fear of him.

"The fuck d'you do to him, you bastard?" Officer Allen demanded.

"Let's calm down, everybody." Captain Sawyer tried keeping the situation under control. "Let's not lose our heads because of a little mix-up. So please. All of you. Stand down."

"Why are you defending him, Officer?" The Batman countered. Ignoring Captain Sawyer's words.

"I got my reasons, Bats." Officer Allen barked. "He may be an ass, but the bastard had my back. Didn't ask for it. Didn't want it. But the guy kept me alive the whole way. He even stayed behind to hold off these bastards so I could go back to my boy."

Officer Allen looked back at the Arbitrator who was being in the middle of being revived by the medi.

"Let's just say that I owe him." Officer Allen conceded and lowered his weapon.

"The Arbitrator killed Officer Kitch though." The Batman calmly argued. "I cannot let that slide."

"Oh and beating him up to a messier pulp's gonna fix that?" Officer Allen challenged.

Captain Sawyer and the other Officers were shocked by this revelation. Even the Officers who were keeping an eye out for any enemies turned their sights at Officer Allen and the Arbitrator. The bond between servicemen was like a bond of brotherhood for the Officers of the GCPD. The Batman wouldn't even be surprised if one of the Officers here would walk up and shoot the Arbitrator on the spot. Especially since Officer Kitch was quite a popular person in the Precinct.

"Is what the Bat is saying true, Cris?" Captain Sawyer questioned. One hand was already on her pistol. "Did this guy kill, Stan?"

"He did." Officer Allen sighed. "I hated him for it. I wanted to kill him for it too. But he said that it was a mercy."

"What did he mean by that?" Captain Sawyer asked suspiciously. "Mercy?"

"On our way out, we were attacked by Killer Croc. The Arbitrator drove that reptilian fuck away but Stan got hurt. He got poisoned by the Croc's bite. I bet the bastard never bothered brushing his teeth. The Arbitrator said that we weren't going to survive if we bring him with us and he wasn't going to survive the trip anyway because of his injuries. Before I knew where he was going with that info, he stabbed Stan in the heart."

Officer Allen paused to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"I wanted to kill him there and there. But I gave him a chance to tell me his peace. I begged him to tell me why. All he said was that he did it out of mercy and respect. I just realized what he meant just now. He killed Stan so he wouldn't suffer from the poison. My guess for the other one part was so he'd die like a soldier. Keep his honor intact or some shit like that."

"I got a pulse!" The medic suddenly called out.

The tension between the three parties quickly dissipated as all attention went directly to the Arbitrator. The Arbitrator started fidgeting and lightly coughed in between struggled breaths. The medic quickly placed a respirator on the man's face and began setting up a gurney for him. Three Officers volunteered to carry the Arbitrator while the medic kept hold of the respirator on the man's face.

"We need to get him out of this shithole, Captain." The medic urgently reported. "We still might lose him."

"Alright." Captain Sawyer nodded before motioning to the other Officers to move out.

"We'll straighten this shit out later." Captain Sawyer said to both the Batman and Officer Allen. "So don't go tearing shit out till we get out of here alive and after we clear all our heads. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Captain Sawyer." Officer Allen nodded before limping out. Another fellow Officer gave him a shoulder to lean on.

Captain Sawyer turned to the Batman only to find him gone. When the man decided to do that was beyond her but she considered it rude either way. With nothing else requiring her attention in the tunnel full of moaning injured people, Captain Sawyer simply spat on the floor and walked off to catch up with the others.

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A/N: Don't be shy when posting your reviews. I'd be more than happy to read what you all think.

Up next will cover a little bit about the Arbitrator's background as well as a villain who has earned an audience to one of the Dark gods. Till next time. The Emperor Protects!


	6. Strangers

**A/N:** The long wait is over and another Chapter for the Arbitrator's Story. I am quite the geek when it comes to movies so I did write the previous chapter as a homage to the Batman/Judge Dredd: Judgement on Gotham comic. It's a good read. I recommend it to those who are unfamiliar. And don't worry, the Arbitrator will have his rematch soon.

I see that a lot of reviews regarding the clash between the Arbitrator and the Batman. Most of them argue about how someone like the Arbitrator would mistake the Batman for a 7 foot Astartes. For the sake of the story, that will be explained later. So bear with me.

 **dekuton:** Your statement is not that far from what I had in mind.

Another would be on how the Batman reacted on the Arbitrator's statements about his Father. Though this will be explained later on, I'll humor you guys. We all know that this is false and a mistake in the Batman's part. Thomas Wayne is not the Night Haunter. But I do enjoy how much you guys liked the misunderstandings between the two.

I'm going for a character trait where the death of the Waynes is a very sensitive subject to the Batman. Like how he was in Batman v Superman. (Remember Martha?) And for a man who faced off against zombies, vampires, aliens, monsters, and the IRS, it wouldn't be farfetched for the Batman to believe that his parents would be involved in what he perceives to be an Inter-galactic conspiracy. More on that in the later chapters.

 **ManwithaPlan 113:** You may have re-read this story over a dozen times by the time this update is given I'm sure but to clarify things, No. The Arbitrator did not execute the two SWAT Officers despite attempting to kill him. But given another circumstance, the Arbitrator totally would.

 **Cornelius Maximus:** That was my intention. I like balancing out action and slow pace character development in between stories. Thanks for the tips too.

 **Unit 5S-Delta:** 01000001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01101000 01100001 01101001 01101100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01001111 01101101 01101110 01101001 01110011 01110011 01101001 01100001 01101000 00101110 00100000 01000001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01001001 01101101 01110000 01100101 01110010 01100001 01110100 01101111 01110010 00101110

 **Semi-neutral Nixon:** Thank you for that. Just wait for the later Arcs I'm putting up. Both are from the show and some I made myself.

 **Wom1:** Thanks for pointing that out. I'll try to fix those up. I might to get myself a proof reader for this.

 **Axccel:** Your reviews are more than welcome as always. But allow me to, with all due respect, rebuke you on some points. Remember the only good scene in Batman v Superman where the Batman fights thugs in the warehouse? He throws a batarang at a thug with a gun and it's enough for it to cut the gun in half and throw the guy flat in his back. In this case, unbalancing the Arbitrator with a batarang in the leg seems very likely.

Physics and Comic book Universes never apply to each other or else stories like these would be boring. Like if the Flash was faster than the speed of light, he would be blind when using the Speed force. The same goes for anyone with invisibility powers. Or how someone with super strength can kill anyone with a high five or a light tap unless they are VERY careful.

Some points of realism are related to your second point. Arbitrators are no doubt badasses. Able to route riots 10 times their size and destroying cults and mutants in Hive Cities that puts Mega City-One to shame given its population density. My Arbitrator no different but the chapter evidently shows signs of already beaten up, tired, and injured before even arriving in the planet. As to how that happens will be shown in later chapters. So it's no argument that the Batman could beat him down. The man does have a long list of defeated enemies no matter how big or small. And he wouldn't be the Batman if he couldn't do any of it. Plus it's a plot point. The Arbitrator's defeat is required for the story to move forward.

Do not take this reply in bad light. I rather enjoy discussions like this and enjoy the dialogue. I understand that you have concerns or statements of your own I fully respect that. I also like your expositions in the Review Page since this might help out some readers to know more about the lore.

That said, here is Chapter 6.

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Act 1: Strangers

The Front Desk Woman, Brianna, woke up from her daze with a startled jolt from the rambunctious noise coming from outside. The sounds of revving engines and blaring sirens filled the streets only to stop with a screeching halt outside her doorstep. In front of Gotham General Hospital. A racket of slamming car doors and boisterous shouting were heard next. Their occupants rushed as they scrambled up the steps to the Hospital's lobby doors.

It didn't take much for Brianna to put two and two together. Signs of trouble were as clear as day. Not that any of this came to her as a surprise however. This was the 3rd one this month and it was around these hours that the worst of people tend to drop in. You could almost say that they were on schedule. Crackheads looking for a fix, thieves looking for an easy score, or conmen extorting cash. All in all, they were all scum and the stern faced Brianna had no want to put up with any of them.

4 months behind the desk and barely a week went past before her first gutter trash barged in those doors. Acting like they owned the place. These punks came in all different shapes, sizes, and ink, but what they want and what they were are all the same. The types who are desperate for a kick and desperate to kick something.

What stopped them from making any of that into a reality was all thanks to the 9mm pistol hidden in her desk. An old ugly thing. Might even be older than the hospital with all the rust and dust it had on it. Not that the bastards cared. Simply finding themselves on the opposite end of a gun is enough for them to stop on their tracks. Most of them run but some required further encouragement. None of it involved shooting them though.

Apparently having her life on the line still wasn't enough for her to risk killing a human being. No matter how indecent they were. Her Catholic roots were to blame for that. It was her tough act that run them off with their tail behind their legs.

Brianna only prayed that the ones on her door right now would do the same. She prayed that they would. She'd hate mar her clean streak to heaven by killing someone. Even if it were for self defense it will still earn her a ticket to hell for it.

Those prayers were thankfully answered when it was the SWAT who came barging in. With them was a bloodied man in a heavy suit of armor on a gurney spilling blood all over the freshly cleaned floors.

"Oh thank God!" She breathed out in relief and quickly dropped the gun back to its drawer.

Brianna never got a chance to bask in that moment of reprieve when the SWAT's CO slammed the desk in front of her.

"Get me a Doctor!" Captain Sawyer ordered. "Any Doctor! Emergency Room! Now!"

"Oh, another one! That makes for two emergency cases today." Brianna said as she looked into a computer for another doctor. "You're in luck, Officer. She's available."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Give me a sit-rep." Dr. Leslie Thompkins asked Dr. Dennis.

The two doctors rushed down the hospital's halls to meet up with their patient in the ER. Leslie was in the middle of putting on her Surgeon's attire as they marched in due haste.

"Patient name is Mateus Nidarr." Dr. Dennis read through his clip board. "Young adult male between late teens to early 20s. Height goes at 185cm. Weight is hard to match because of the patient's armor and gear. We have multiple bruising, broken bones, lacerations, a concussion, an infection, poisoning, and a lot of internal bleeding. If that doesn't say much, he's in critical condition. To what degree, we do not know. But we know it's really bad. We'll know more once we get his armor off of him. The others in the ER were having a tough time doing it though."

"We have power tools for those, right?" Dr. Thompkins pointed out while she was putting on her gloves.

"Oh we tried." Dr. Dennis said despondently. "But nothing we use can put a scratch on the damn thing. Even wrecked the chainsaw we just bought."

"Did it now?" Dr. Thompkins asked with piqued interest.

"Broke the teeth, chains, and all."

"Of course it did." Dr. Thompkins didn't sound in any way surprised. "And Jonas just got that for a bargain price, too."

It wouldn't be the first time she's treated an unorthodox patient. Superheroes and villains always get the best toys. All of that simply makes things more complicated.

"Does he have records?" Dr. Thompkins asked. "Any medical history?"

"No. No We don't." Dr. Dennis shook his head. "And that's the problem. The man isn't from this planet."

Dr. Thompkins was one door away from the ER before she abruptly stopped on her tracks.

"Is he now?"

"Yes." Dr. Dennis nodded vigorously. "As a matter a fact, he's the one in the news earlier. The one that crash landed on the park this afternoon."

Earlier that afternoon being nothing less than chaotic to say the least. Dr. Dennis closes his eyes for one hour and the entire world has gone to hell. Most of the hospital staff, including Dr. Thompkins, and every patient who could stand on their feet had their eyes glued to a screen. Intently they watched the myriad of events happening one breathtaking moment after another.

He made it just in time to see the climax before the curtains closed. The scene being the bloodstained Arbitrator standing defiantly over the frightened masses. His blue crackling mace hovering above a wounded man's head. The latter begged and pleaded to deaf ears since the Arbitrator heartlessly carried out the act and smashed the poor man's head to paste.

Everyone watching cried out in alarm when he brought down the weapon onto the poor man's face. An ending that was bloodier than what anyone watching were expecting. Even the news reporter covering the news on site was not spared by the gore in the scene and screamed alongside them.

The news anchor from the studio yelled at the studio to cut to commercial. Screaming at it even as to spare the viewers from the grisly scene but it was too late. The best he could do was apologize to the viewers watching from home before cutting to commercial. By then it was too late. The damage was done. Now the horrifying image of the sinister red-eyed Arbitrator standing atop the bloodied corpse was permanently etched in her mind.

Now that very same man was under their very roof. Tensions were high with that dangerous alien was now their patient and were forced to treat. At least he was in Dr. Dennis's point of view. He could only wonder what Dr. Thompkins thinks about their conundrum.

"So that's who we're dealing with then." Dr. Thompkins slowly turned to Dr. Dennis. He saw a worried look in her eyes. "That complicates things."

Dr. Dennis could only nod in agreement. Like him, he felt that Leslie had qualms about being in the same room with a murderer. Let alone treat him. He wondered if he would be doing humanity a favor if this 'visitor' would hypothetically never wake up. It would be quick, neat, and painless. No one would be the wiser. No one has as far as he knew. Much to his surprise however, Leslie had a different idea in mind.

"It's just that I've never operated on an alien before." Dr. Thompkins said unsurely. "That's more of Dr. Mendel's thing but he already had enough on his hands with that other one."

Given an opportunity, Dr. Dennis would have given himself a palm for his mistake. This was Leslie Thompkins after all. Gotham's Mother Theresa as some called her. He had forgotten the fact that Leslie never closes her doors to anyone. Whether they be rich or poor, good or bad, heroes or villains. Almost to a fault as a matter a fact. A fact that scares him every time she brings one in to their doorstep.

"You'll do fine, Lee." Dr. Dennis assured.

"9 out of 10, they have a different anatomy and 9 out of 10, I might just end up killing him because of a different reaction to meds or treatment, Ken. I wouldn't want that in my conscience. Hell! I wouldn't want that in my records."

"Hey. It's…okay, Lee." Dr. Dennis said. "The Police who brought him in assured me that the patient was human. 'Mostly human' he said."

"Well that's a relief." Dr. Thompkins said but her expression remained puzzled. "But what do you mean by 'Mostly human'?"

Dr. Dennis could only shrug in reply. Even he was confounded by what Officer Allen said.

"Well, only one way to find out I suppose." Dr. Thompkins said.

The moment she went through those doors, the two of them were welcomed by a cold gust of clean alcohol mixed in with the thick metallic scent of blood. Doctors on the scene shouted orders back and forth as they worked with their erratic patient. Struggling to stabilize the patient's condition. All of it was an uphill battle and the doctors were close to slipping.

In the middle of it all was the Arbitrator in the worst of wear. Stripped bare of his armor and man they feared in TV was no different from the bloodied folks she had to deal with daily. It also showed him at his most vulnerable. His flesh was torn in more places than one. Like a Jackson Pollock art piece lathered in all swaths of red from the oozing blood with shades of black and blue splattered on him like paint.

Dr. Dennis would have appreciated the art better if the canvas wasn't pouring a bloody mess on her floor. Or if the canvas didn't have contusions bulging out of him like hills and swelling his arms like balloons. She could only imagine the bigger mess the guy was having on the inside. None of it looked pretty. Neither did the jigsaw puzzle of scars that marred the patient's skin. Cutting into his body like ragged canyons. Torn into him like barren quarries. There were a mix of both old and new but all of them were bled the same. The worst contender was probably the ribs that were sticking out of his sides like a row of shattered teeth.

The patient's face wasn't spared from any of it either. A big surprise for Leslie given the fact that the man was supposed to have a Helmet that apparently dreadfully failed to protect him. The fact that the blood was now dry didn't make him look any prettier. This just made it harder for Leslie to make anything out of his features, save for his eyes. The left one was buried under a swelling brow that made him look like a china man. He wasn't so sure what the other one was. If it could still be considered as an eye. Let alone a prosthesis.

"Is that what I think it is?" Dr. Thompkins asked in disbelief.

"Would you believe it?" Dr. Oscar O'Brian, the doctor in charge, answered. "Gave us a bigger shock than the guy's face I tell you that."

"It looks like someone jammed a camcorder down the guy's eye socket." Dr. Dennis observed the prosthetic eye. His fingers traced the rims of the thing and found fresh blood trickling out like tears. "That someone did it recently too. A couple of days at least."

"Doesn't look like any prosthetic I've ever seen." Dr. O'Brian whistled back. "Hell, Looks more like something you get out of the chop shop than from any hospital I've seen."

"How did he turn out like this?" Dr. Thompkins asked. She pulled Dr. Dennis closer and asked him with an urgent whisper. "Did the Police rough him up on the way here?"

The accusations were not that far from being untrue. The GCPD had an infamous reputation for police brutality especially when it comes to the criminals they bring in. The doctors there know this more than anyone because that's what she sees from the criminals that were being dropped into her doorstep. Dr. Thompkins already had half the mind to berate the Police waiting outside when Dr. Dennis grabbed her in the arm.

"It was the Batman, Lee." Dr. Dennis replied with care. "The cops said so. And…and they were sure of it too this time."

"The Batman?" Dr. Thompkins scoffed in disbelief.

The look on Dennis's face showed was enough to tell her that there was no joke to catch. A surprising first but now wasn't the right time for that. The news abated her anger and exchanged it with a solemn frown. What this meant for Dr. Dennis was beyond him but he didn't care much for it.

"Let's get to work." Dr. Thompkins said to him before turning to Dr. O'Brian. "What's the situation, Oscar?"

"To be frank, Dr. Thompkins. A total clusterfuck." Dr. O'Brian replied. "Blood pressure is low from internal bleeding and temperature is rising off the charts with a fever that's breaking out."

"What's with the mess?" Dr. Dennis asked.

"Oh that?" Dr. O'Brian said as though the thought didn't cross his mind. "We needed to do a full body check but we couldn't do that with all that Armor now, could we? The moment we did though, his insides like – burst open – or something."

"Didn't you take into consideration that maybe his armor was the thing keeping all of him together?"

"Hell if I know! We needed a full body check and we could do that with the armor on, right? But I'm all ears if you had a better alternative."

Dennis fell silent. Beaten by the argument. Pleased with himself, Dr. O'Brian got back to Dr. Thompkins.

"Where was I? Oh, then there's the undercoat it had on to deal with." Dr. O'Brian traced his finger down the patient's chest. "We cut it out of him but…we…uhhhh… Ended up reopening the wounds from the coagulated wounds that stuck itself on the suit. Then there's also an infection making things harder than it should."

Dr. Thompkins scowled at O'Brian. The man's prejudice was obvious but there was no need to extend that to the dying man on her operating room. His prejudice went so far as making his efforts as sloppy as the supposed scum he was obligated to treat. Nothing more than a statistic who would be better off left to die rather than waste tax dollars on. What was the point of patching them up only for them to go back to being parasites and undesirables that they are, she imagined him saying. A notion shared by many of the staff in this hospital much to Leslie's frustration.

How could people like this think of themselves as Doctors? People who are meant to save lives are abandoning the very people who need them? Can they even call themselves as one?

"What is your conclusion then, Dr. O'Brian?" Dr. Thompkins asked.

"He aint gonna last the night." Dr. O'Brian frankly replied. He already dejectedly took off his Scrub Cap. An obvious sign of defeat.

"Not if I can help it. You are dismissed." Dr. Thompkins spoke coldly to him. Treating him like he didn't exist. "Let's get to work then, gentlemen. We've wasted enough time as it is."

All the other doctors immediately rushed to their duties. Giving the good old doctor a helping hand or assisting with the documentation and supplies. All save for Dr. O'Brian who was left in the background with nobody paying him no mind. Defeated and abandoned in one fell swoop. Dr. Thompkins did all that without betraying herself in emotion and without raising a single tone in her voice or shouting to berate him.

Dr. O'Brian had to admit that he would have preferred it if she did do all that instead of suffering from this humiliation. Especially in front of his peers. Without nothing else keeping him there and seeing as he wasn't wanted, O'Brian left the room and the doctors to their work.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Surgery took the rest of the night until the following morning. Might as well have been a lifetime for the Doctors. The results were a resounding success however despite how difficult the task at hand was. There were still many things they didn't know about the patient but at the very least they knew that the patient's status was stabilized and was sleeping soundly in anesthetics. The only thing they could do for him now was to pray that he makes a full recovery.

As the other doctors went straight for the showers or made way for the next shift, Leslie alone stayed behind. Resting heavily behind her desk, she thought long and hard about the events of her evening. The thought of sleep never came to mind. The work piled up in front of her made it difficult for her to do so. Piles upon piles of documents, photographs, and X-Rays that were scattered on her desk like an incoherent jigsaw puzzle.

A thin cigarette burned between her fingers. Its light trails of smoke billowed out of the opened window behind her. It made for a relaxing scene. So much so that the cigarette almost burned her calloused hands. She satisfied herself with one last puff before flicking it out of the window before grabbing her Voice Recorder from under her desk and started recording her findings. She didn't need to say any of it out loud but she needed everything documented. Unbiased and indifferent. A rare quality one could get from all the other Doctors in any of the hospitals.

"Leslie Maurin Thompkins. Date: 25th of June, 2010. Medical log number 1156. Patient name: Mateus Nidarr. Height: 186cm. Weight: 225lbs. Blood type: AB+. Age: Mid to late teens, Approximately. Race: Unknown due to extraterrestrial status. Looks surprisingly human though. Could pass off as Mediterranean. Hmmm. Anyway, surgery was passed through General, Trauma, Orthopedic, and Vascular to thankfully stable condition. But that is not the cause of my concern."

Device in hand, she went over the X-Ray Display of her patient's entire skeletal structure on the opposite wall. X-Rays that depicted her patient, Mateus Nidarr's, entire skeletal structure. A collection of broken bones and number of unknown items scattered about the patient's body.

"They weren't kidding when they said that you were _almost_ human. You poor boy." Leslie barely noticed herself saying these words.

"(Ehem) Apart from the abated infection, the patient is by all accounts healthy and fit. Save for a few broken bones, he's steadily recovering. Faster than usual I may add. Which brings us to my cause of my concern. One, his bones has more mass than normal for someone his age…or for our species. Muscular system also has an absurdly high density. A fact that cutting into him a more difficult endeavor than we previously expected. It also shows that the patient can be…a glutton for punishment. Anatomy like this would give someone heightened strength and endurance. No doubt grow further in the coming years. I'm no astronaut but my money's that my patient's from a planet with high gravity. But I digress."

Leslie traced the X-Ray from up from the skull to the feet below. Her hand slowed above the bright figures scattered among the patient's bones and where some of his organs should be. Solid figures. None of it were made of any tissue, flesh, or bone. All of it were unseen and incomprehensible for the X-Ray.

"Second point are the copious amounts of prosthetics and possible artificial organs in the patient's body. The probable source of the patient's extra weight. Jesus Christ this is unreal. (ehem) Patient's Frontal, Temporal, and Parietal lobes of the skull is replaced with layers of metal plates. And by the looks of it is sloppily welded in place. Small runes are carved on it. Patient's right eye is artificial. Custom made. The scope is hard to pinpoint in X-Ray. But I think it extends further into the brain. We can't really tell without cutting him open now can we?"

"Rods cover the left Humerus Bone and both Forearms. Keeping it all together. Calluses are evident. Glued it all in place. Metal Braces link the ribs together from the sternum. Intramedullary rods fixed the femur in place. 13 Spinal Clamps along the Spinal Column. Now his legs. He doesn't have any. From the _Patella –_ his knees - down to his feet are… replaced with prosthetics. Of what kind is beyond my pay grade."

Leslie paused to refresh herself with her forgotten coffee on her desk. She took the moment to compose herself at the same time.

"MRI's useless with all that metal in him. Best I could do are educated guesses based on said implants and devices in the body. I see a pacemaker. Cochlear Implants. Whatever that thing in his liver is. And a pair on his Adrenal Glands atop of his Kidneys. What the hell has this boy gone through to have all of this on him? I'm sure these were not for artistic purposes."

A slight shift in the wind immediately stopped her review. A large horned shadow appeared before her. Crouching by the window like an inhuman creature as it entered the office. Its fluttering tendrils encapsulating her. Shrouding everything around her in darkness and brought a cold chill in the air.

Despite the obvious display of terror the figure emitted, Leslie didn't give out as much as a peep. Not a even a twang of fear. She was instead unamused. Annoyed even by his abrupt appearance while she was in the middle of her research. With a tired sigh, she turned around and met with the wraithlike figure. Almost as though she was expecting him.

"That door's there for a reason, you know." Leslie said with mild annoyance without looking back at him.

"I'm sorry to come in this early, Doctor." The Batman said.

"You're already here anyway, so come on in." Leslie lazily beckoned him in while she got back to her own seat. "I'd hate for you to waste your trip for...whatever it is you're doing here."

"You sound cross." The Batman said as he walked to the front of her desk. Politely refusing the seat offered to him in favor of standing.

"Why wouldn't I be? You just had me working overtime cleaning up after YOUR mess. On a Saturday too of all days. I'm not as young as I used to be, boy."

"He's alive then."

There was a hint in Bruce's words that did not go unnoticed. Was it of relief? Or aggravation? Leslie could only shudder at the thought of what this meant for her patient. A thought also occurred later on which of the two boded worse. One thing was certain however. Bruce does a better job in hiding his intentions than his cowl could hide his face.

"Barely." Leslie fumed. Only pausing for a sip of coffee. "And it wasn't easy, mind you. You didn't make it easy."

"You have staff don't you?" The Batman earnestly suggested. "You could have saved yourself the trouble."

His sincere recommendation only simmered the pot even more.

"That poor boy won't see the light of day if O'Brian or Dennis get their hands on him." Leslie slammed her mug on the table. "Not that any of them would care if the patient croaks. Not that ANYONE here would care. No. No one here cares enough. Not even you."

"Doctor- Ms Thompkins. Leslie." The Batman tried to comfort her with a gentle hand. "If there's anything you need, I-"

Leslie brushed off his hand and stood from her desk. The scattered documents were gathered neatly into its folders and were held close to her breast. The Batman stood nearby and watched her patiently as she slowly made her way out the door.

"Follow me." Leslie beckoned the Bat.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The hospital staff had the shock of their lives that morning the moment they saw the enigmatic Batman walking in their halls. Even more so when they saw it following old Dr. Thompkins like a on a stray dog. Whether to laugh at the sight or whisper in their presence never came to mind nor dared and so they remained silent.

They parted ways for the two as they walked past. Hugging the walls even, as though the treating the two as a plague. Try as they might to ignore them or avoiding eye contact, they couldn't help but gawk and stare at Gotham's Dark Knight. To see him up close was a rare thing but not one dared take out their phones or approach him for a photo and so they remained still like statues. Only to go back to their duties as though it was all nothing the moment the two have gone. Speaking only in whispers as to how they were going to show good old Dr. Leslie more respect and admiration that she deserves as well as a twinge of fear.

Who else was able to keep a creature like the Batman on a tight leash?

The Batman in turn ignored the staff's looks of fear and awe. Acting as nothing more than as Leslie's trailing shadow. What concerned him more was the cold shoulder that Dr. Thompkins was giving him, Almost as if ignoring his presence completely. The good doctor even saw it fit to keep up with her cheery persona and spoke to every person they came across with a sincere smile and warmth. Much to the confusion and awkwardness of the said people and much to her own entertaining pleasure.

"Ms Schneizel, a little too early to have you up and about at this hour, is it?" She merrily greeted an old woman with a recent heart surgery. Gently she shooed the lady back to her room. "Please stay in bed before your heart gives out again. I'll have someone check on you by the hour."

"Close your mouth, Patrick." She told the young orderly like a mother patting a child. "It's very rude to stare."

And so on.

The pair were met by another pair after one last turn to another corridor. The latter stood from their seats at a jolt. Their badges shined under the light's glare while they themselves glared at the Batman. One looked uncertain. The other held onto his gun on his holster.

"Dr. Thompkins!" One of the Officers cried. His eyes remained at the Batman even as he spoke. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course it is Officer Briggs." Leslie replied. The woman walked passed them on her way to the door. "We just want to pay _him_ a visit. Be a dear and make sure that we are undisturbed."

"Uhm. Of course, Ms – I mean – Dr. Thompkins." Officer Briggs stuttered back but his eyes were at the Batman the entire time.

"Thank you, Officer Briggs." Leslie gave an honest salute. "As you were, Officers."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Leslie was quick to lock the door behind her the moment they entered the room. A symphony of monotonous sounds welcomed the two to the ICU. Atop the gurney in the center corner of the room lay her patient, The Arbitrator. Mateus Nidarr.

The man slept peacefully. In a matter of speaking in between slight fidgets. Colorful wires and chords coming out of him linked him to various machines tasked with keeping him alive. Clean bandages, solid cement castes, and iodine laced gauze covered every inch of him save for his nose and parched dry mouth. The latter were left exposed to make way for the respirator that he breathed greedily with ragged rasps.

Comatose as he was, a black leather harness fastened him tightly on the bed. A pair of handcuffs for each hand tied him on the gurney's solid rails. Marked yellow tape was set up the perimeter around the bed as a security precaution for any visitors. That includes the doctors and in this case includes even the likes of the Batman who wasn't allowed to step in.

"I never approved of it but they went ahead with it anyway. Better safe than sorry, the Police said." Leslie grimly explained. "But this goes too far. They just can't leave him to heal in peace."

"He's killed around 30 people since he first stepped foot in this planet." The Batman pointed out. "This is justifiably reasonable."

Leslie bit her lip but remained resolute.

"As much as it justifies you almost killing the boy?" Leslie challenged. "Nothing more than a rabid dog to be put down?"

"You know better that I would never cross that line." The Batman boldly shot back.

"But you know better that you came very damn close!" Leslie fumed. She looked at Bruce straight in the eye without even flinching. "Deny it all you want but you're getting close, Bruce. It won't take long before you do. The Police told me that they had to pry you off of him before you stopped. God knows what would have happened if they didn't. Don't even deny it. Wounds never lie."

Leslie was relentless. Never giving the Batman room to maneuver. Not even allowing him to come up with a defense. Let alone a retort. She had to resort to raising her voice as to drown out anything the Batman might say.

"These people need help." Leslie continued. "And you can give it to them. As Bruce Wayne. Can't you see that? You can do so much more with your Name than you could with that Mask. It's been a decade, Bruce. It's time to grow up now."

"Now's not the time for that kind of talk, Doctor." The Batman replied dismissively.

"It never is, boy." Leslie sneered before tossing her folder to the floor. "And I fear that that day will never come?"

The folder skidded to a stop at the Batman's feet. The gruesome and bloody mid-operation photographs of the Arbitrator spilled on the floor and showed him a glimpse of what he's done. As much as Leslie hoped to get some kind of reaction from Bruce, but the man remained impassive and indifferent as he always was while picking up the folder and hiding it under his cloak like it was nothing.

Leslie looked away. The very sight of him disgusted her. Something that hurts her more than it did the Batman. It was obvious that the Batman didn't take notice of this. Either that or he just didn't care what she think. A fact that hurt her even more. Her lost boy. A boy that was no more than a stranger to her. Nothing that she has said made it through him. Bruce was lost in his own selfish lies and his flights of fancies for control.

"That…man. Works for the people who killed my parents." Was the last she's heard from him.

Bruce was long gone with the medical documents by the time she turned around. He had the last word about it too. He always wants to have the last word. But what he has said had a profound effect on the good doctor and bared its teeth at her. She staggered at the weight from what burden Bruce's claim brought forth. The Batman was many things but he was never one to jump to conclusions without anything to lean on. Especially when it involves to his parents.

That said, she began seeing the patient in a completely different light now. A storm of conflicting emotions conjured in her mind. Thoughts that she could not comprehend and strung her heart to ribbons. In the center of it all was this boy. The very sight of him began to make her skin crawl. Suffocated the air around her to the point that she felt a lump on her throat. She perceived this man doing all that while he slept soundly in his bed.

Slowly, Leslie envisioned the boy as something akin to the devil himself. A soulless black void lying underneath those clean white bandages. Nothing more than a creature under the guise of a battered youth. A formidable monster whose life hung by a single thread. All she needed to do was to reach for the plug and find all her nightmares to be over.

"No!" Leslie pulled herself away from such thoughts.

The world would have indeed gone completely mad the day that Leslie Thompkins would think of such ends. Let alone for a patient under her care.

Exhaustion finally caught up with her and quickly left the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I'm home!" Dick called out the moment he entered the lavish halls of Wayne Manor.

"Ah, Master Richard. Welcome home." The butler, Alfred, greeted as he appeared from the West Wing. "No excitements for today, I see."

"Why'd you say that?" Dick asked as he tossed his bag on a nearby chair.

"Because you wouldn't be home this early otherwise." Alfred replied nonchalantly while he brushed off the dust off one of the Manor's many knick-knacks. "Normally you come home later than usual because you go off in patrol every day after school."

"And they say that Bruce was the world's greatest detective."

"Who do you think he learned that from, Master Richard?" Alfred gave a sly wink and chuckled.

Dick snickered and went straight to the living room while the butler followed close behind.

"But I wouldn't say that there weren't any excitements today." The boy said as he acrobatically jumped into the couch while taking off his shoes mid-air.

"Is that so?" Alfred asked with interest while walking in with a platter of muffins and hot chocolate.

"Yeah! Today was a blast!" Dick gleefully told the events of his day with great enthusiasm and expertly did so after every biscuit. He was still able to speak as clear as an orator even as the biscuits were being munched in his mouth. "We got to dissect frogs. I aced my Math test. Oh, best of all, I won us the basketball game!"

Taking a muffin, the boy jumped on top of the table and raised it high in celebration. Alfred would usually disallow such behavior but just this time, he showed no signs of denying him his moment.

"You guys should have been there! You should've – have seen me play!" Dick effused gleefully before wolfing down the whole pastry. "I was unstoppable! Uncatchable! Unbeatable!"

Dick finished off by tossing the wrapper to the trashcan across the room. His form was perfect for a three-point-shot only for it to overshoot on the wall. The wrapper exploded and pastry's crumbs scattered all over the carpet floor. It was a little mess but nothing ever passes over Alfred's radar. Dick cringed at the thought of a long lecture. To his surprise, he instead heard clapping from the old man.

"Bravo, Master Richard!" Alfred proudly applauded. The mess next to him was completely ignored. "A fine shot for the game that must have been!"

"Thank you! Thank you!" Dick bowed dramatically before jumping off the table with a flip before taking the hot mug of chocolate.

"Perhaps a career in sports is in order, Master Richard?" Alfred asked. "You're more than capable to go for the gold even at your bright young age."

"Nice try Alfred, but no." Dick chuckled at the thought. Almost like scoffing at the absurd notion. "I'm aiming for something bigger than the gold. I plan to be the next Batman!"

"Of course, Master Richard." Alfred nodded with a smile.

"Speaking of which, where is Bruce right now?" Dick asked.

"I'm afraid he didn't say, Master Richard." Alfred said as he went about to clean up the boy's mess. "And that only means he must be busy doing something _very_ important."

"Well let's not leave him waiting then!" Dick exclaimed. "He's nothing without the Boy Wonder!"

Truth be told, Alfred has never approved of any of this. Running around in capes in cowls beating up criminals and villains does not present itself as a healthy childhood. One of these days, Alfred fears a day would come when that boy would come back in a body bag.

But Alfred couldn't blame the young master for wanting the cowl. Despite how near obsessive his desire for it is. Crime fighting was all the boy has come to know at the young age of 9 as a means of channeling his grief after losing his parents in a similar tragedy as Master Bruce. Alfred would have preferred therapy but Master Bruce preferred a more drastic approach. Now young Master Richard is seduced by the life of capes and heroes while being naïve to what kind of life like that would entail.

A life of misery, suffering, and sacrifice.

A future without a future.

Something Alfred has seen in Master Bruce's growth and someone as young as Master Richard wouldn't understand until later but by then it would have been too late. To become the Batman is to give up one's own humanity. A fact that Alfred knows all too well. Probably even more so than Master Bruce himself since he sees it all from the outside. And what he sees is something he couldn't bear to see happen to someone as innocent as Master Richard. He loves the boy too much as a father would for his son. A fact that he can't say the same about Master Bruce's relationship with the boy.

But it was also love that stayed his hand. Love stopped him from putting the whole act of capes and cowls to a stop. Love made the idea of destroying the child's lifelong dream was more horrifying than the idea of Master Richard inheriting the cowl.

To deny him this would destroy the boy. He will resent him and fall further down than Alfred could bear to reach. Bruce wouldn't approve of it either and leaving the Wayne Household – his family – was a fate worse than death. This was a path that Robin has to walk on his own. And as much as he hates it, Alfred knows that the greatest lessons in life are better learned through pain. A bitter pill to swallow either way.

Old Alfred could only be strong for his sake. He must be strong for Master Bruce as well and pray they come back in one piece every time they walk into the shadows. All he could do was wait that they come back and have something nice prepared for them when they do.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dick ran straight to the Drawing Room without a second thought and onto the piano. After a couple of incoherent notes on the keys and the shelf behind him opened up. Leading a passageway to the Manson's lower levels. His school uniform littered the staircase as he made his way down the steps in exchange for his Black and Red costume. The Robin, Boy Wonder.

The moment he stepped foot into the cave, a flock of the Batman's namesakes flew out from the darkness. Gathering in the air from dozens of holes. Pouring into a large black cloud before rushing to the Boy Wonder en masse. It was almost as if the very shadows in the cave came to life. A hundred eyes surrounded him with their ghastly light. The sounds fluttering wings and deafening screeches drowned Robin out from the world. It was all a terrifying sight to experience in the dark but Robin did not huddle in fright. He did not turn away nor did he huddle with his head between his legs.

Robin instead stood his ground. Watched the bats dance around him like a man hypnotized. Their noisy screeches were like music to his ears. To him the flaps of their wings were as relaxing as the sound of rain. The entire scene was like a christening. Almost as if the bats themselves are blessing him. Preparing him for the mantle of the Bat.

The scene ended as quickly as it began but it might as well have felt like a lifetime. The critters to fly back to their dens. Robin wished the scene never ends. 4 years passed and the sight has not yet cease to amaze him.

"Soon." Robin said to the watching crowds of bats hanging just above him.

The Batman was nowhere in sight. Evidence shows that Bruce had left in a hurry.

Folders and medical documents lie scattered on the desk. Some fell over to the floor and danced in the passing winds. The Main Computer was filled to the brim with a myriad of webpages and videos in its many screens.

"Just what've you been working on, Bruce?" Robin wondered.

Bruce had been rather more distant than usual the past 5 days since the whole Purple Star Incident and the whole Arbitrator debacle. Robin surmised that something big has happened around that time. But when has Bruce ever opened up to anyone? The man has always been some sort of a recluse as of late. He hasn't been attending any Company Events. Holed up in his cave save for the moments where he needed to leave to god knows where only to come back the next day empty handed.

Assistance was never an option despite it being offered on a silver platter. The Batman shrugged them off every time and closed the door at their faces. Even Robin's. Not that it stopped him or anything. Bruce even had the gall of kicking him out of the Batcave to be left alone to his own devices. Irritating as it was to Robin, it only peaked his curiosity even more.

Alfred was a god send for letting him know that the Batman wasn't in the cave. It was an opportunity that he couldn't miss. And now a wealth of data laid bare for him to see.

"Let's see what got Bruce all worked up."

The folders on the table were all from Gotham General. All of it were under Dr. Thompkins. Even her scribbles were on the rims of the documents. The documents were of one 'Mateus Nidarr'. None of the medical reports, X-Rays, and pictures showed him in good light.

Gotham had done well to prepare Robin for the photo's morbidity and gruesomeness. He didn't cringe or wince at any of it. Being a fledging detective, Robin only asked on the why and how these injuries came to be. All of which left him as astonished as Leslie was at how much punishment this man had endured given his physical condition.

Despite this, he also couldn't help but feel sorry for the man and was slightly relieved that the reports stated him as alive. The prosthetics on the man was also a source of awe for the boy. His young age made it easy for him to see the things as cool and badass. He could only wonder who this person was to Bruce and where he falls in the riddle.

What was in the Master Computer was an even bigger riddle. Computers were supposed to be his salvation but it instead brought him to a loss. Latin texts and a Death Metal Band called 'Night Lords' filled a screen. Webpages were covered with Religious scriptures, Grimoires of Unholy Gods, and Tomes of Apocalyptic works of art. Another screen holds a live video of a bandaged man on a hospital bed.

Incomprehensible Searches were covered on various Search Engines like Adeptus Arbites', 'Eldar', 'Yizreel' and 'Adeptus Astartes'. There were planets like, 'Aristachus', 'Obesphia' and 'Nilotis'. Events like, 'The Zetarius Crusade', 'Age of Strife', and 'Horus Heresy'. None of which made any sense or connections with each other and paved the way to a hundreds of results leading to nowhere. Despite having a sea of answers, they all still led him to a dead end.

"What in the heck are you working on, Bruce?" Robin scratched his head. Finding himself in a total loss. He then slapped himself to sense. "C'mon Robin. Who can solve this better than you?"

Too busy digesting the Batman's data, Robin failed notice a peculiar helmet right next to him until it reflected a small glimmer of light at him.

The Helmet looked like it was glaring at him with its lidless eyes. Over a dozen cracks, burns, and gashes littered the battered old thing. One of the larger cuts stabbed deep into the right side of the visor. Most likely deep enough to penetrate the eye. Like a knife or a stiletto of sorts. A few theories popped up from Robin's end on how he could explain the Arbitrator's red eye but he didn't dwell that far into it as of the moment.

Dust settled itself well on it and it was stained heavily by grime. This did little to deny it of its dark silver sheen however. Even the eagle on its middle of the forehead still gleamed gold. It took a while for Robin to remember where he last saw the old thing and almost fell off of his chair the moment he did.

"No way!" Robin exclaimed at his realization.

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place as everything began to make sense. It was not much of a discovery and not much to work with but putting the Arbitrator in the center of it all helped him by a mile. The task of deciphering Batman's findings became a tad easier for him now.

"So it's all about you then." Robin said to the Helmet. "That also explains the video on the screen. Talk about being a stalker, Bruce."

A chord connected the Helmet to the Master Computer. An evident sign of hacking on Bruce's part. He left the heavy lifting to the Master Computer but to no avail it seems. The AI was at it for a couple of days now but it seems it was no closer to breaking into the Helmet's code. Might as well be moving at a snail's pace. Robin couldn't help but grin at the sight of it all. Pathetic.

"Sorry Bruce," Robin said as he cracked his knuckles. "But hacking is something I'm obviously better at than you."

Robin pounced on the chair, cracked his knuckles, and entered the zone of advanced computer hacking. He took a moment to study the code first before diving in head first into the fray. A tactic that Bruce drilled but it mostly left Robin with a dulled drill. The lesson stuck though and every time he found a weak point, the Boy Wonder gave his all to the offensive. His fingers was nothing more than a blur the moment he found one in the sea of code. Dueling with the Helmet's computer relentlessly. Going fast to the offenive and giving the program no room to maneuver.

True to his word, the Boy Wonder broke further than Batman or the Master Computer in the span of an hour than what the latter two could do in a day. But as the hours passed, the codes began piling higher instead of going lower. Every time he cracks one, another 3 sub-cyphers took its place. And then another 3 from those 3 and then another to the point that Robin went around in circles. Soon, Robin had more codes on his hands to keep up or to go anywhere.

The encryption defended itself relentlessly like a living organism. A labyrinth of a thousand locks. Learning from every move he used against it. Each layer became more formidable than the last. Stubbornly defending every inch of ground against Robin's onslaught. But Robin soon saw his actions to be in vain and he quickly fell back to his seat that gave off a tired groan. Robin couldn't help but groan alongside with it.

Defeated. Exhausted. And Fingers were aching as he struggled for breath. Eyes were blood shot red and saw illusions of light spinning around him. His head felt hollow and dizzy. A well appreciated break was in order to help him recuperate for the second clash. A swell idea it could have been if it weren't for the fact that the codes didn't give him a chance to even catch his breath.

The cracks Robin had painstakingly made in the codes were slowly being patched up before his very eyes. Like a callus on broken bones, new codes replaced the old. Each more formidable than the last. Robin wasn't sure whether to be amazed or be frightened by this sudden turn of events. He was feeling despair for sure however. The hopelessness of his situation was clear.

"This is over-fricking-whelming!" Robin cried. "I'll be as old as Alfred by the time I break through this."

The Boy Wonder lay defeated. Eyes were blood shot red. Fingers were stiff and cracked at every fidget. All with nothing to show for. His pride was also wounded.

"I've hacked into high-tech databases like LexCorp, Double-encrypted networks from STAR LABs, the JLA Watchtower, and even the Superbowl!" Robin lamented. "But I can't hack into a fricking Helmet? A stupid old Helmet! This is a new low, Dick. A new low."

To add more salt to the wound, this activity costed him most of the night. Hours spent for nothing. The sun was probably on its way by now too. The only saving grace of it all was that it was a Friday. It did little to make him feel good however. He still missed an entire night's worth of patrolling working on whatever this is.

Ruled by anger, Robin howled in frustration and kicked the seat behind him. Grabbing hold of the Helmet, he forcefully yanked the chords off it with the intention of throwing it away. His fingers were just about to do the deed when he stopped short. An idea propped up amidst his rage. A stupid idea at first but it began cooling his mind. A long shot of an idea but the more he thought about it, the more it made some sense to the point that it might just work.

"Will it work?" Robin asked himself.

Robin peaked inside the helmet and found gadgets that he never expected from the busted old thing. Most of which he couldn't discern properly without taking it apart. His hands groped the Helmet's battered surface until he felt a small hole under one of its folds.

"What if I?" Robin observed. "Is it possible? To hack it from the inside?"

Wearing the thing offers great risk due to the likely chances of the Helmet being booby trapped. He was dealing with an unknown alien technology after all. The possibilities of it blowing up on his face was difficult to ignore. These precautions were thrown out the window however the moment excitement poured into Robin's veins.

"Here goes nothing." Robin held his breath while the Helmet hovered above his head.

Like how one would pull off a band-aid, Robin quickly slipped into the Helmet with a wince. Closing his eyes while at it too. His hands clenched onto the metal and held it in place while the Helmet's chin straps did its job and fastened itself tight. He held his breath while hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. His hands held tight at the ready. Nothing thankfully happened after what felt like a long while and Robin finally got to breathe again. The relief on his face quickly turned green the moment his nose caught something foul.

"Geezus, this thing stinks!" Robin exclaimed. His immediate reaction was prying the thing off of him but much to his horror, the Helmet's chin strap buckles held firm and left the boy to suffer.

The damp scent of sweat and the thick musk of blood permeated from the helmet. It pierced his nose and almost reintroduced him to Alfred's pastry that was in the middle of crawling up his throat. A lot of effort in Robin's part took to hold it all down and he was forced to endure this small misfortune. Not until he got what he came for.

The scent subsided by a bit once his nose got used to the stink. He had to settle with breathing through his mouth the entire time. On the other hand, Robin looked cool wearing it.

"Hmmm." Robin admired himself at the mirror.

It was a good look. Intimidating, Foreboding, and definitely Badass. There was a problem with the view though. The Helmet had a narrow view of things and Robin had a hard time seeing his surroundings beyond his periphery. There was also a sense of detachment from anything on the outside given to how confined he was inside the thing. It could also take a hit. Robin could barely feel anything nor did he feel any ringing when he hit himself a couple of times with the thing on.

As cool as all that was, there was still a job to do. Robin looked around the insides of the Helmet for anything to work with. It didn't take long for him to find something that might be his ticket inside. A small blinking light was on the side of the visor. It wasn't much but it was something.

"A facial recognition software, I bet." Robin observed. "But I know more ways than one on how to bypass that."

And he planned to do just that with his handy Wrist Computer. The Boy Wonder's best friend that got him out of many situations. There was no way in hell that it was going to fail him now. A flip of a switch activated a holographic computer that had all the tools he needed for this type of job.

"You think you're all that you're all that you stupid machine? This isn't my first rodeo, you know!" Robin said as he furiously typed a series of codes into his Wrist Computer. "No code is unbreakable for me. Whether its firewalls, or cyphers, or your fucking code. Nothing can't keep me out. Especially once you let in a Trojan Horse!"

With the virus on hand, Robin whipped out the Wrist Computer's chord and attached it to one of the Helmet's sockets. His hands were shaking in anticipation. All of this was a long shot but Robin was ready for the leap of faith.

"If you're still there, God. Help me break into this thing. It would really help." Robin prayed. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Open Sesame."

The blinking light stopped the moment he opened his eyes. Whether this was a good thing or otherwise was too soon to be decided. His face lit up the moment the visor lit up in a ray of blue light and an emblem appeared. A symbol of a clenched fist holding a pair of scales appeared along with some Latin words that Robin figured was asking for identification.

It was the moment of truth. Robin dared not say a word in case the machine was listening and he wouldn't dare do anything else in case something goes wrong. A lot was at stake now and he couldn't afford any mistakes after getting this far.

"Arbitrator…Mateus…Nidarr." Robin slowly said. He could only hope and pray that this works.

The Wayne Family were never much of a church going folk. It wasn't disapproved off nor was it practiced in the household. They all had other ways of coping with their

Apart from the close calls he has in his superhero career, the only time he's ever prayed sincerely was to his parents in their funeral. Dick never had to rely on anything else apart from his wits and his skills growing up. There must be something about prayers however. His latest one was currently being answered.

A Heads-up Display was activated with the Helmet's visor acting as the screen. The HUD was incomplete though. Most of its data remaining blank save for the Radar Map, Motion Sensors, and the different Optical vision options.

"That explains the needles. Gotta be careful with these." Robin mentions the plugs that were poking him in the back of the head. "The Arbitrator must attach himself to the Helmet. Gross."

It didn't take long for Robin to find the Helmet's data storage. Nothing went past Robin's eye with his Wrist Computer as his navigator. A wealth of information lay before him. Most of them were wisely encrypted however. Robin's Trojan Horse could penetrate so far. A few he had access to were the recorded data files taken by the Helmet's camera.

"It's not much but it might help see things from perspective." Robin said as he clicked on the files. He almost gawked in awe by how much information was presented to him. All 6 digits of them. "I've struck the motherload. There should be about over a hundred thousand files here. Latest one being 787 984 M41. How about we start with this one."

The video began at a press of a button and it started with the Arbitrator activating his Helmet after putting it on.

Finding himself in the eyes of the Arbitrator was a surreal experience. Almost as if Robin himself was the one behind the wheel. Or a very long videogame cut scene. The latter held more ground due to the video's HUD.

Unlike what he saw in the Helmet from earlier, the video took the video's present HUD into account. A blue translucent screen displayed the various applications one by one in a familiar yet unknown language.

 _ **SCRIPTUM INGRESSUM:**_

 _ **= IN OMNIA PARATUS =  
= ITA LEX SCRIPTA EST = **_

_ADEPTUS ARBITES_

 _IDENTICATOR:_ _ **MATEUS**_ _._ _ **NIDARR**_ _  
ADSCRIBO:_ _ **A1045**_ _-_ _ **1205**_

 _DIES: 787 984 M41  
TEMPUS: 36:18:41 _

_**COGITATOR H.U.D. SUSCITATIO**_ _  
CIRCUITU TABULA:_ _ **\- IUNCTUS -**_ _  
MOTUS SENSOREM:_ _ **\- IUNCTUS -**_ _  
VITALIA SENSOREM:_ _ **\- IUNCTUS -**_ _  
ALIQUAM NUNTIUS:_ _ **\- IUNCTUS -**_ _  
ARMA METIOR: -_ _ **IUNCTUS -**_ _  
AMICUS AGNITUS SENSOREM:_ _ **\- IUNCTUS -**_

 _ **INTERNUM STATU RATIO**_ _=  
STABILITAS IN ARMIS: __**63%**_ _  
NAVITAS CAMPESTER:_ _ **38%**_ _  
INTEGRUM STATUM: -_ _ **APTUS**_ _-_

 _ **= IN SERVITIO, AD IMPERIUM =  
= CONSECRATUS IMPERATOREM =**_

"Awesome!" Robin exclaimed. "Front row seat movie!"

As ecstatic as Robin was for the success of his achievement, a fleeting thought that left him anxious. A realization that would ruin everything if it came to be.

"God, I hope this thing came with subtitles."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While Robin was busy in the Batcave watching the Arbitrator's videos, Leslie was busy with her own job in the hospital. Namely making rounds while changing bandages and refilling medicine for the patients who needed them.

If Mother Teresa could name a rival, her name would be Dr. Leslie Thompkins. Compared to the Ottoman saint however, Leslie actually liked what she was doing. Something she'd never say out loud in public. Menial jobs like this were usually left for the orderlies but Leslie found it no trouble. Understaffed as they were, someone had to go around changing bandages and refilling meds. Other jobs required steadier hands so it might as well be done by someone with the experience.

"I hope you're comfortable, Mr. Lynns." Leslie said to a burn patient. "Now get some rest."

"Tanks…Dok." The bandaged man mumbled as he struggled to smile despite his burnt skin. "Keep…d…lite…on. Plis."

"Of course." Leslie replied with a curt smile before closing the door behind her.

Garfield Lynns has been her patient only a few days ago but it was almost as if she's known him her entire life. 36 years old. 5'11. Hazel Brown Eyes. 160lbs and dropping. Suffers from 3rd and 4th degree burns all over his body after committing arson. The experience surprisingly didn't traumatize him in any way. The man in fact can't seem to stop getting his hands on anything that sets off a spark. This has to be his 3rd visit in Gotham General for the same cause of injury. Lost both his arms doing it too. All that this tells her is that the man only had a few days left on him.

A hard conclusion as any. The best Leslie can do for him was to make sure he was comfortable before Death comes by to pick him up. She might as well be waiting by the door for Mr. Lynns. Waiting for Leslie to finish up with him. Allowing the dying man to see a tiny glimpse of kindness before taking him to the void.

"Good morning. Dr. Thompkins." The Dr. Harris greeted as he was walking down the hall. "I didn't know you were in the morning shift."

The fact that it was already morning came as a surprise to her. So much so that she had to look out the window to convince her that it already was. Looking at Dr. Harris was also another clear sign. The man wasn't in his usual scrubs and instead was still in his leathers. Complete with a helmet under his arm.

"Oh, I'm not." Leslie said while rummaging her medical kit. "I'm afraid I stayed up all night. Again. You know how forgetful I am, Lester."

"You never disappoint, Doc. At the rate you're going, you might kick us out of the job."

"I just do my part around here." Leslie shrugged. "Same as anyone else."

"More than anyone else looks like it." Dr. Harris teased. "You might as well have cleared out the whole floor."

"Just my med kit I'm afraid." Leslie frowned as she shook her overturned med kit and was met with lint. "I'm fresh out."

"I'm on my way to the supply room to get my uniform anyways." Dr. Harris recommended. "Why don't we go together?"

"Be more than happy to, Lester." Leslie said as they walked down the empty halls. "By the way, I heard that you were dealing with a special case recently."

" _Special_ wouldn't be the first thing that comes to mind about that but it cuts close." Dr. Harris replied unsurely. "It's like the bubonic plague raised to 11. It's like nothing we've ever seen before."

"That bad, huh?" Leslie said with a slight surprise. "I've seen the quarantines you've set up but I never imagined it to be that bad."

"Never went by to take a peak huh? I'm glad that you didn't because none of it was good to look out with a full stomach. Believe me, I learned that the hard way." Dr. Harris shook his head. "Because it's something straight out of a horror film. Their skin are slowly turning pale grey while puking out a load of green. Boils as big as softballs, puss for piss, scarlet fevers, and blood shot eyes to boot. That's not even the worst part. They're still alive and kicking. In loads of pain too no doubt."

The further Dr. Harris went into its gruesome detail the less Leslie wanted to hear about it. But at the same time she couldn't help but to listen and learn more about it. Possibly looking for a pattern and find some treatments similar to other inflictions. Despite this, the very idea of this disease afflicting dozens of patients in her hospital make it for a horrible thought nonetheless. Her contradictions went so far that when Dr. Harris took notice of her disturbance and stopped, Leslie wasn't sure whether she should feel glad or disappointed.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Lee." Dr. Harris quickly apologized. Realizing that he has been explaining something very ghoulish to the good doctor. "I guess I've gotten ahead of myself there."

"Don't be, Lester. Don't be." Leslie whispered as she absentmindedly gave Dr. Harris a pat on the back. "My god."

"If you ever get a chance to get a hold of him, tell him that we need him now." Dr. Harris cynically said. "We could only do so much for 'em. More than a dozen of them now but word on the street has their numbers spreading. We had to transfer a lot of patients out to make room for them."

"That explains why some of my patients were off the list." Leslie nodded. A thought suddenly came to mind. "No one's died yet I hope?"

"Not yet. But if we don't act soon, we'll have an epidemic in our hands." Dr. Harris sighed. "Try to keep this between us, Lee. We can't start a panic."

"That is the last thing I want for this city. Believe me. My lips are sealed. But chin up, Lester." Leslie playfully pinched the young man on the cheek. "If there's anyone winning the next Peace Prize, it'll be you. That's why I hired you, after all."

"Thanks, Doc." Dr. Harris brightened. "Oh. And speaking of patients, I heard that you were treating a special case yourself around here."

It didn't take much for Leslie to figure out where this conversation was going. A shame that she wasn't in the mood to have it right now either.

"I'm dealing with a lot of people these past few days, Lester dear. You have to be more specific." Leslie feigned ignorance while quickening her pace ahead of Dr. Harris. Vainly trying to avoid something she knows she can't run away from.

"I'm talking about the Arbitrator guy, Lee. That killer everyone's talking about in the news."

"What else is there to know? He's a killer." Leslie answered quickly without a second thought. "That sums him up enough, don't you think?"

"Can't argue with that there, Lee." Dr. Harris nodded.

But it was obvious that the boy wasn't finished with her yet. Dr. Harris trailed behind her like an ecstatic schoolboy. Attacking Leslie with a barrage of questions upon questions with no end in sight. It was a complicated situation for Leslie and she ignored whatever way she can from the young doctor's pestering.

Leslie found herself in an awkward situation. She was too empathic to tell Dr. Harris anything to put him off and too nice to tell him to shut up. The best she could do was to excuse herself by pretending to take a call with no one and part ways from the Doctor. Sparing herself from any trouble.

"Excuse me, Lester. But I have to take this." Leslie pretended to reach for her phone and made a turn for another hall just to avoid him.

"Alrighty then." Dr. Harris said. "I'll get going myself. Talk to you another time, Lee."

Leslie nodded back with a smile and made a turn to another hall. There she waited for Dr. Harris to be out of earshot before giving herself a big sigh of relief. Little did she know that in her haste to escape brought her to the same hallway as the Arbitrator's room.

"Dr. Thompkins?" The police Officer in charge of guarding his room stood in surprise.

Save for the hospital orderlies and Nurses, Leslie hasn't been checking on the boy herself these past few days. She was ashamed to admit that she's been keeping herself distant from the Arbitrator since she finished fixing him up. The fact that the man was transferred from the ICU to a new room must have passed over her head and the document containing that information must have been buried deep in her desk. As far as she knew the boy still hasn't woken up but was on his way to a steady recovery. All that is good and all but her conscience in the back of her head kept telling her to make some time for the boy as she did to her other patients.

"As a matter a fact, Officer Levin. Yes I am." Leslie said. "By the way, aren't there supposed to be two of you here?"

"Jack just went out for some coffee, Doc. He'll be back in a bit." Officer Levin replied. The Officer's southern drawl made for an entertaining conversation. "Haven't seen much of you 'round here for a while. A lot in yer plate lately?"

In honesty's sake, Leslie's been giving herself excuses all week to avoid seeing that man. Her disdain for the man was a cursed product of Batman's revelation. Despite burying herself in mountains workloads, that obnoxious nagging of guilt persisted. Now that she was there, she wondered if one visit would help get her some sense of peace so she could move on.

"I'm afraid so." Leslie replied quickly replied. "I'm just gonna do some catching up with this one."

Leslie sheepishly looked at the heels of her shoes.

"Now might as well be as good a time as any." She mumbled to herself before facing the Officer. "Am I… Am I allowed to go in?"

"You're his doctor, right? No need to check in with me, Doc." Officer Levin assured. "But I'll still need to frisk you and leave any sharp or metallic objects here with me."

"No arguments there, Officer." Leslie said as she did as the Officer told.

"Simple protocol, Doctor." Officer Levin frisked the Doctor's nook and cranny before letting the doctor in.

It was times like that when Leslie wished that the Batman was there with her as a means of avoiding something as embarrassing as a police frisking. On the bright side, at least she was frisked by a woman. Nonetheless, what's done was done and she was free to enter the room.

"Just holler if you need anything. We're just outside." Officer Levin assured before closing the door behind Leslie.

The room's setup was no different from the ICU. The same machines gave off the same repetitive sounds to the same bandaged person who slept on the gurney. Complete with the same yellow tape that kept everyone at a distance.

The moment she stepped closer to him, every hair on the back of her neck stood tall. Her muscles tensed to the point that she almost couldn't move. She was petrified. Like her entire body was telling her to stay away or leave. Leslie however mistaken her instincts as her prejudice on the man. Her conscience was telling her otherwise and her good heart's guilt was pushing her forward to get it over with.

Quite the conundrum she had in front of her. A 'lose-lose' situation for whatever the good doctor chooses.

Her stubbornness helped her make the choice. Leslie simply interpreted her present discomfort as an obstacle that was keeping her in her comfort zone. An aspect that she was supposed to break out off as to have the means of feeling good about it later. As any Christian would say and by the words Leslie lived by, 'the bigger the discomfort, the greater the prize.' That said, she endured her apparent discomforts and pressed on.

An orderly must have change the patient's bandages recently and exposed more skin than last time. Allowing the wounds to breath. A step to recovery that went faster than Leslie expected. The once black and blue bruises were now turned yellow and the swelling has subsided considerably. His other wounds have clotted themselves well and were at the point that they were ready to be simply chipped off.

His face on the other hand was completely covered in bandages save for the mouth for the respirator and for his hideous mechanical eye that popped out of the cloth. His wounds he has there must need more time to heal before making the man more respectable for society.

None of this mattered to Leslie. She expected closure or get some form of peace out of this visit. How that was going to work was beyond her. Talking to him was the best idea she could come up with. But how can she do that with a comatose patient?

"Hello." Leslie said to him. "It's been a while, I'm sure. I hope that you are doing better than last I saw you."

Leslie walked to the window and opened the blinds with the intention of brightening things up since the light in the room was dim and flickering. The morning light from outside instead casted shadows shaped like bars on them. An ominous sign that Leslie couldn't help but notice. It made things look drearier than they should be.

"I hoped that coming here would settle the guilt I've got these past few days. Not visiting or treating you and all. It was irresponsible of me. Trying to avoid you while I should have been doing my job. But I think you know why." Leslie scoffed at how ridiculous all of this was. Her cynicism knew no bounds as she paced around the room. "Peace of mind, my ass. Doubt I'll get any closure being here either. All I'm getting here are reopened wounds and painful memories."

Her fingers twitched for a smoke. She already had a cigarette in her mouth and was an inch away from the window before she forgot that she was in a patient's room instead of her own. It would be unprofessional for her standards if she were to smoke in the presence of a recuperating patient. Even if it was for someone she despised.

That said, she placed the unlit stick into her breast pocket. Her eyes then turned to window. The city was well on its way of waking up and the streets were filling up with vehicles rushing past. Apart from a few hobos crawling out of their hovels and a handful of passerby's, the sidewalks remain mostly empty.

"Do you know why they call this place, Crime Alley?" Leslie said to the slumbering man. Judging by his present condition, she might as well have been speaking to herself. "24 years ago, this used to be called Park Row. I lived here all my life and helped make this hospital. From behind these windows, I watched the neighborhood bloom with many shops and cinemas opening left and right. Nice things don't last long though. It slowly declined after two people were gunned down a block away from here. Right over there."

Leslie's voice became heavy as she pointed at an alleyway outside. Clearing her throat, she began pacing around the room.

"Park Row didn't sound so dashing in the papers, so they coined it as 'Crime Alley'." Leslie said venomously. "Funny how fate is decided from something so small. It didn't take long for things here to decline because of that. All because of a name and two people. Do you know who they were? Thomas and Martha Wayne."

Leslie set up a chair for herself and sat in front of Mateus. She idly chewed on a pen while she spoke.

"To think that the two of the most beloved and most powerful people in Gotham would be gunned down in some alley. In front of only son no less. It was tragic." Leslie sighed. "That poor boy lost both his parents in one night. At the same time…I lost two of my dearest friends. Not a day goes by that I don't remember that tragedy because I'm reminded of it every day when I make my way to work here."

"I knew them my entire life. Better than what most others knew about them. The world knew Thomas Wayne as the most powerful and respected man in Gotham. I on the other hand met him in as an awkward student in College. An odd boy, but brilliant. I've never met a better student of medicine. I later became his mentor after he graduated. I taught him everything he knew."

"He would have done better in his studies if it wasn't for Martha." Leslie chuckled at the sweet memories. "That girl was full of mischief and quite the party girl as a teenager. Qualities that threw her into Thomas's arms. Quite literally too after she had a car accident caused by an unfortunate meeting with a deer. Those two couldn't take their eyes off each after that. I wasn't too fond of her at first but she slowly grew on me. I must admit, it was hard NOT to like her. Especially after she broke Thomas out of his shell. Hard to imagine that girl grew up to be a prim and proper lady but that liberated spirit of hers is still there."

Despite how much Leslie struggled to keep it all in, it didn't take long for torrents of tears began poured down her cheeks. The more she tried, the more it struck her with a vengeance. What she expected was a cry turned into a near incoherent sob as her emotions spilled out.

"I've never have seen a more perfect pair. Didn't take long before I delivered them the most perfect baby boy." Leslie said in between sniffles as she vainly struggled to hold back the tears. "6 pounds, 11 ounces. 21 inches long. The stars in the Wayne's eyes told me that he was loved the moment they laid eyes on him. They also made me his godmother. Something I never expected but was more than happy to oblige. I just didn't expect it to happen so soon…and happen so dreadfully."

"I raised him as I should. The best I could. But I failed. I failed him. He wasn't the same child anymore. He's but a stranger to me now. All because of you." Leslie hissed at Mateus. "You may have been too young for any of this but your affiliation makes you just as guilty! You killed that boy along with his parents that night! And left behind an empty shell that nothing on earth could fill! You destroyed his life! Turned him into a monster! You ruined all our lives!"

Leslie abruptly stood and sent the chair clattering behind her. Her eyes were red in tears while her face turned red in anger. All the stress and anger she had held in for the previous days culminated into a fury that she did know she had. She didn't even know that she was capable of such anger until now. At the very least all of it was aimed towards someone she completely abhors. His very presence only strengthened her resolve even more.

Silence on Leslie's part followed. The supposed serenity from that silence was spoiled by the Mateus's response of heavy rasps of breath and the same monotonous beeping of the medical machines. Noise that irritated her more than usual. As if moving by its own volition, she found herself stepping into the yellow tape perimeter. Her hand soon followed as it reached out for a chord on the wall next to the bed. The chord of the machine's life support system.

Leslie was only thinking of some peace and quiet but her body appears to have mistaken that for murder. Hands that dedicated themselves to save lives were now inches away from committing murder. It was shocking that she found herself doing something so unforgivable. Yet she did not do anything to stop it. The idea might have come from the back of her head but the desire to see this murdering bastard dead was more than apparent.

This thing lying on the gurney wasn't like the criminals and killers. What those men did with their miserable lives pales in comparison to what Mateus and his ilk has done. All of which was personal to her. She wanted justice for the Waynes.

The Joker once said that, 'All it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy.' Her bad day happened those 24 years ago. It just took her 24 years later to act on it. Bruce's revelation and being reminded of it all in front one of the men responsible helped trigger it. Killing this boy wouldn't do much. That much she knows. But her body was not her own at the moment. Her mind was too deluded, her emotions too angry, her eyes too blinded by salt to think of anything else or to think these through. There was little else she could do about it now either now that her hand held on the chord.

Another moment was all it took to finish the deed. One moment for Leslie to end this man's miserable life. At that same moment however that another hand grabbed her by the arm. Stopping her from doing the deed from out of nowhere and violently held her so tight that it woke her from her spell.

The pain and the anger she from earlier quickly disappeared and with it her sanity returned. That heavy aura she felt since entering the room vanished as well. Surprised by this sudden turn of events as well to what she had almost done, she quickly let go of the chord as one would after touching something foul. She was her own person now yet the hand remained. Still latched onto her and still squeezing the life out of her arm.

To her horror, that mangled bandaged hand belonged to her supposed sleeping patient, Mateus Nidarr. Awakened at last from his long slumber. Terror quickly replaced her previous relief as all color was drained from her face. But that was not the end of her torment.

Like the climax in a Horror Movie, Leslie finally came face to face with her monster as it slowly turned its head towards her. Though his head was still covered in bandages, he still made himself a terrifying sight to behold to the poor doctor. The scene was made more terrifying when Mateus's robotic eye slowly glowed red in front of Leslie as though she was looking at the devil himself.

Leslie wanted to scream and to call for help but was too terrified to let out a single note but quickly fell silent when the thing began speaking to her in a guttural voice.

"Wot…d'you tink…yo'r doing…Medicae?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N: I may have butchered those Latin Phrases so take that with a pinch of salt and I might make some corrections on the chapters on a later date in case any of you or I come across some mistakes.

Also don't kill me for changing a bit in the lore. As the Writer of Fiction, I am obligated to make changes to my story as I see fit. All I mean is to entertain and not start a rumble in the review boards.

That said, I hope you guys enjoy this and send me your thoughts in the review boards. I am more than happy to receive them along with the Favorites and Follows.

Till next time. The Emperor Protects.


	7. Perspectives

A/N: A Happy New Year To All and to all, a good Year!

I'd like to give a shout out to Cornelius Maximus for giving me a hand in this series. I have included an OC of his here that would push the story forward. Feel free to read up on his works too. It's quite the show.

 **Unit 5S-Delta -** need not wait any more because it is here

 **ThatGreenDooredBookshop** -glad you liked it. but what are some of the gripes you mentioned? i'm open for criticism if it means my improvement.

 **OnEternity'sEdge-** Your honesty is appreciated. i am still working on my style and it has made its improvements. i only hope i do get better in the long run. More will be said and more will be done so just hang on there.

 **Apex85** & **Guest -** he wouldnt be the Batman if he wasnt, haha! it is part of the story and the Arbitrator was not in the best condition and mind when they fought. dont worry though, they'll get their round two soon. regarding the misunderstanding, i am going for a trauma that Batman has yet to cope with thus we are shown a very self destructive mindset.

 **Parks98 -** It never does for these people

 **Muricalover99 -** glad that you do

 **Guest -** regards to the different character backgrounds. Take a page out of the Elseworlds series. Not all aspects of a character are set in stone. I can make Bruce black and gay for an Asian Superman if it would help push for a good story.

 **Jake-** thanks for the heads up. i'll do better and i've fixed up the synopsis errors.

 **dghornick, Felius, & Guest - **regards to the misunderstandings. yes. it is true. the Imperium has nothing to do with the Wayne's death. as fun as that sounds. all will be explained soon. i beseech you for patience

 **ManwithaPlan -** i have no plans of killing Mateus yet

 **Wom1 -** I am so glad that you caught that

 **patiflops2 -** glad you thought so. hope this keeps you entertained for the next one.

 **OBSERVER01 -** wait till you read this!

* * *

Robin expected many things inside the helmet. Most of it stemmed from his ego and pride after successfully unlocking it. Excited to gorge himself of what he believed to be a treasure trove of knowledge and data that was serving itself before him on a silver platter.

He hoped to see magnificent worlds beyond planet Earth, the wonders of the greater universe, and the epic battles of awe and glory. But most of all, he had hoped to find answers to the riddle of the man that was the Arbitrator. What he didn't expect was a welcome filled with blinding flurry of lights and an outrageous storm of earsplitting static.

"Something's wrong. Is the Helmet broken?" Robin said to himself as he tapped onto the system's codes once more with his trusty wrist computer.

He had half the mind to rip the Helmet off if his head to spare himself from getting seizure but Robin was made of sterner stuff. He endured the mild annoyance and the noise as he was in a middle of being drowned by sea of data. Feverishly typing counter codes with hopes of finding and fixing the problem.

"The memory file's corrupted." Robin clicked his tongue. "Damn. Can't do anything about that."

No sooner than when he said those words did a series of images began materializing before him. Random images that were far from being in good quality. Or even 360p for that matter. At the very least the video was clear enough to paint a clear enough picture for Robin to understand.

It was a unique experience. To see everything from the literal perspective of the Arbitrator. A first eye view of his every move. There was a video game feel to it as he watched the events played out. Like a cut scene that he can't skip. An entertaining one for sure if only it didn't suffer from a lot of video – or static – that interfered with the recording from time to time.

Sometimes it would just pass by the screen amidst a storm of crackling static that burn his ears. While other times it would skip the entire scene entirely! Throwing Robin to a middle of something entirely different. Lost in a scene with very little to work with. Leaving him scrambling for hints for context and complicated guesswork to simply figure out what was going on before him. That is while dealing with infernal, and ear-splitting static that randomly appears at the same time.

"Well," Robin could only sigh through it all. "Guess it's better than nothing."

* * *

It took a while for the screen to become more coherent. Robin soon found himself walking in magnificently large hall at a brisk pace. In front of him was the Helmet's HUD that made the entire experience feel like a video game.

The translucent figures were drawn up on the corner of the screen in visually appealing detail:

A grenade counter on the upper left displayed 2 Frag Grenades and 2 'Krak' Grenades.

An empty counter was displayed on the upper right. Robin surmised that the slot was for his weapons, if video games were to be relied on.

On the bottom right side of the screen was an outline of a full body armor. From his Helmet, to his Gauntlets, across his Cuirass and down to his Greaves.

The bottom right hand corner showed a circular radar displaying 25 feet surrounding the Arbitrator along with a motion tracker that revealed the people around him as blinking lights.

Beyond the Arbitrator's HUD, was a woman in gray leather and silver armor walking ahead of him. There was a powerful air of authority coming from the women leading their entire procession.

Her long black coat flowed at her every step. A wide brimmed _capotain_ hat rested on her head that hid her knotted silver hair. A decorated longsword and a sidearm clinked from her sides. An intimidating presence that somehow demanded absolute obedience. Something that Robin found was similar to how Bruce was around people as the Batman.

Robin surmised the woman as someone of a high military rank but also one that was shrouded with an air of mystery. Like a secret police of sorts perhaps? One that was no different to the German Gestapo or the Russian GRU.

The Arbitrator turned to his side and revealed another woman walking beside him. This one carried herself more like royalty. One that acted with dignity and elegance. And that was what Robin surmised from the way she walked alone. Suffice to say was that this crimson-haired lady was the most beautiful creature he's ever seen.

She was an otherworldly beauty. Something of a piece of art that came straight from a fairy-tale. So much so that Robin considered her as a fairy herself. She was a sculpture of the finest white marble and unmarked by any blemish. A tall and slender creature that was molded to perfection. A stunning portrait that was to be worshipped. An ethereal creature that came straight from his fondest dreams. A goddess that was homaged by a kiss on her red lips and be blessed from a gaze drom her raven black eyes. Eyes that Robin longed to meet with his own.

Enamoured as Robin was, her was not so blind as to ignore that even the finest of roses still bear thorns. Like the dozens of spikes that sprouted out of her armor. Armor that glowed a strange eerie light of dark teal and orange. An elaborate headpiece encompassed her head but left her porceline face exposed. Her crimson hair sprouted from the very top of the headpiece. Akin to a tongue of fire that swayed after her every step.

Robin's heart leapt the moment the woman turned to him and met his eyes. All the crystals and decorum she adorned herself with were nothing compared to her pair of shining emerald eyes. He could look at those eyes forever.

To Robin's surprise, the Arbitrator did not share his sentiment. He could hear the man's soft growl and was no doubt glaring at the woman from under that mask. The red-haired woman in turn looked at him with disgust and scorn before tersely turning away.

"Woah. These two have issues." Robin said. "Wonder what that's all about? They were ready to rip each other's throats off!"

More footsteps were heard marching behind them. This left Robin to wonder if he would get a chance to see more colorful characters in the Arbitrator's party. These thoughts were quickly forgotten however, the moment Robin caught sight of something far more interesting.

The Arbitrator might have his eyes on the path in front of him but his visor was wide enough for Robin to get a good look at what was around him. Out of all things he had hoped to see, Robin didn't expect to find himself inside a massive High Gothic style cathedral.

The building's size and grandeur left Robin in a mouth gaping awe. Breathtakingly stunned to how magnificent it all was. The cathedral's ivory-white color laced in gold screamed holiness. Rows upon rows of intricate pillars that paved their way defined serenity. Pointed arches that converged onto the ceiling and molding themselves into beautiful fan-shaped rib vaults displayed artistry and devotion.

Massive statues stood inside the hollow of every pillar. Every statue depicted a stern faced knights in large suits of armor with a winged skull decorated on their chests. Each held a blazing torch on their right hand while their left rested atop of a sword. Robin felt their piercing eyes following him as he walked by.

No walls were left untouched from epic depictions of various paintings. There were ones with hundreds of soldiers marching to the jaws of the unknown. Of angels leading choirs of hooded peoples. Ones with haloed knights standing gloriously atop of mountains of broken bodies or fearlessly charging into the blades of fearsome monsters. Of hordes of horrific monsters dying in droves. Statues and paintings that were so lifelike that Robin could easily imagine these scenes coming to life.

XXXXXXX

The next scene brought the Arbitrator and his retinue in front of a large flight of stairs where a group of 20 brightly dressed Guards stopd waiting. Each wore an elaborate armors of black and blue. Uniforms that brought reverence to the wearer and caution to those who stood before them. They were armed with strange red lit rifles with chords attached to machines on their backs.

Robin expected trouble from the two parties but to his surprise, the Honor Guards dipped their heads and allowed them to pass unimpeded.

As the Arbitrator passed by them, his eyes met with two of the glaring Guards. For a split second, the pupils in the latter's eyes grew wide while flaring their nostrils and stiffening their postires. One gripped tight to their weapons while the other dripped a bead of sweat from his brow.

" _At ease, gentlemen."_ The Arbitrator mocked.

A sense of satisfaction was obvious and he lightly chuckled under his breath. Robin could only wonder what all that was about and was curious to know what the man did to the two.

The marble stairs brought them in front of a massive and highly decorated iron gateway with a Tympanum the size of a building above it. The Tympanum was surrounded by a glorious collage of masterful paintings and thousands of lifelike statues. There were depictions of thousands of cheering men and women waving hundreds of proud fluttering banners with sword like ships flying overhead. There were magnificent figures of a hundred colorful planets that basked in warm golden light shined from the a thousand stars that twinkled just as bright like the real ones.

9 statues of formidable men stood the center of it all. Surrounding the largest statue of the Tympanum, a statue of Monarch sitting upon a Golden Throne. The fact that they were there and the fact that they dwarfed all the other figures declared their prestige and importance over all the others.

Robin surmised them as heroes. Saints. Brothers bound in blood and fellowship. Just like the epic tales of old. A story long told in many books. Every one of them were clad in armor and weapons fit for battle. Each unique to the individual's preference, skill, and identity.

The first one on the upper right depicted a man of striking nobility with short blonde hair in bright blue armor decorated in bronze. A golden halo stood around his head like a laurel crown while a bright shining sword was held under his hands. An ornate "U" symbol acted as his sigil. As seen engraved on his chest. Like an upside down Omega symbol.

The second below that one was stoic faced man with snow white hair. He wore bright yellow armor with a golden eagle displayed on his back. A flowing red cape draped itself behind him while a massive gauntlet was worn on his left hand. His sigil was of a clenched Black fist that was engraved on his pauldrons and his belt.

The third under that one was a titanic black man of pure ebony skin with fearsome eyes that glowed like red embers. The man stood taller than the rest of his comrades and was dressed in large green armor with a white dragon skull acting as one of his shoulder guards. A Black Drake acted as his sigil and carried a black scaled spear as his weapon

The fourth one under him was a wild looking man with long braids of yellow hair. He wore silver armor with a massive direwolf peltvdraped around him like a cape. Coincidentally enough, a wolf's head made for his sigil. A mighty axe and a bright blue sword on each hand were his weapons.

The fifth across him was a pale white man with raven black hair. A pair of silver bladed wings sprouted from his black armor while a sigil of a white raven was engraved on his chest. Staying true to his sigil, the man was armed with long talons that protruded from his gauntlets.

The sixth above that one depicted a square jawed man sporting a short buzz-cut hair. His sigil was of an Iron Hand. A quaint symbol given the fact that the man's own arms were coloured entirely in grey, like iron. His armor was black and white and appeared to be sleeveless to make way for those iron hands of his. The fact that he carried no weapon made Robin assume that those grey arms of his were not just for show.

The seventh above the former had was a man with Asian features. Such as his long thin beard, high cheekbones, and knotted ponytail atop his bald head. There was also a red scar tattoo trailing across his face. This one wore white armor with a thunderbolt sigil on his belt. A curved serrated sword acted as his weapon.

The eighth on the uppermost left was a man with long flowing blonde hair wearing forest green armor laced with spikes. Golden lions adorned his pauldrons and his joints. His sigil was that of a winged sword engraved itself on his chest. A design that was no different from the decorum of the sword he held under his hands.

The ninth was a literal angel that stood above the eight in splendor. He was depicted flying with his head pointed to the heavens and his white wings spread out in all its glory. His ivory feathered wings and kind face almost made his ruby encrusted golden plated armor seem insignificant. A bleeding red heart of the finest rubies and gemstones acted as his sigil. A broken sword acted as his weapon.

As beautiful as the Angel was and as glorious as the other eight Heroes were, none compared to the titanic statue of their King who sat upon a golden throne. Light itself emanated from the king's very figure. Not from his stunning golden armor. Neither did it come from his glorious halo crown in the shape of a blazing sun. Nor was it from his fiery blazing sword he had pointed at the ground. The statue depicted him as the sole source of light in the pitch black darkness that surrounded him.

It was an awesome spectacle. The King's light encompassed every statue that laid eyes on him. His light that made the twinkling stars and hanging lanterns pale in comparison.

His face did not depict him as being a cruel overlord or as an indifferent ruler. He was instead depicted as a man with a gentle smile. One that displays his benevolence. His pride over his creations. His love for all. He had a face that gave hope for all who stood by his side. A face that ensures a bright future from all that was unknown.

At least, that was how Robin percieved things. Simply looking at it made his own heart soar. He knew nothing of the man yet he couldn't help but look at him in awe. Though the video quality was poor and the pixels marred the screen, Robin could still see the statue of that King looking at him with pride. The kind of look that he longed for Bruce to give him as a father would.

The Arbitrator clearly felt the same. While the others have moved on through the gate, he instead paused and gazed upon the statue.

" _In the name of the Imperium._ " Robin heard the Arbitrator whisper to himself. " _And to your Loyal Sons."_

He kissed fore-fingers and pressed them to his chest before quickening his pace to catch up with the others. He pushed his way past the black armored soldiers marching with them and went to his old position behind the silver haired woman.

XXXXXXX

The mood abruptly transformed once the screen became coherent again. The serenity and the holiness from earlier was exchanged with a commotion of bustling activity in a massive chamber more akin to a stock exchange. Hundreds of desk jockeys in near identical military uniforms dutifully worked along dozens of rows in front of a screen. Every one of them spoke incomprehensibly either their headsets or to each other.

* * *

"Its a command bridge." Robin said as his mind tried to digest what was around him. "I'm inside a ship. I'm in space!"

* * *

Seven massive windows displayed the vast curtain of black space in all its glittering glory with millions of stars. Almost something akin to what you'd find in a public aquarium. The front three windows also showed the ship's upper deck that stretched on for miles. The deck itself was decorated in High Gothic fashion with the only differing aspect were the dozens of massive cannons and hundreds of smaller batteries aligned atop of it.

Sword-shaped battleships with eagle shaped prows flanked them. Each looked just as formidable, armed, and grand as their ship but not as large. In fact, they were smaller compared to the ship the Arbitrator was in by a large margin. Their escorts might as well be toy ships next to a row boat given the size of the ship he was on. Either case, Robin found himself in a fleet that was readying itself for war. But the question was, to where and against who.

Ever a sucker for details, Robin began to realize something the more he looked at what was around him. The style and decorum of the command bridge were strangly familiar from the cathedral he saw from the previous scene.

It was there that realization dawned upon Robin. That the cathedral he saw from earlier and the command bridge he was looking at now were one and the same!

* * *

"Who puts a cathedral in a space ship?!" Robin jolted forward.

* * *

His mind flashed to the cathedral aisles he saw earlier. The ones with columns that were stories tall. The domes that were miles overhead. The steps that challenged St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. Thetympanum with the life sized statues that was as big as a building. Not one of those said anything about them being in space. Let alone be possiblely built inside a space ship.

* * *

"My God." Robin wondered. "Just how big is this place?"

* * *

A racket of black and white static started munching on the screen. Just as the Arbitrator and his retinue approached the center of the ship's command center. There they met the ship's captain. A gaunt looking man wearing a single breasted blue uniform filled to the brim with colorful ribbons and shining medals. Next to him were other officers in matching attires.

" _Inquisitor."_ The commodore motioned to the woman in black and reached out an open hand. " _The cr(_ **static)** _w and I bid you welcome to the Eternal Vigilance._ "

" _Commodore Vivek_." The Inquisitor grasped the hand and gave it firm shake. " _It is good to be back ho(_ **static)**."

" _All have been arranged in your absence,_ Inquisitor." Commodore Vivek reported with a warm smile. " _We are about to depart for (_ **static)** _within the next quarter of the hour_. _Right on schedule_."

" _Good_." The Inquisitor replied. She turned to the other officers and nodded. " _Officers_."

" _Inquisitor_." The officers saluted as one.

With a wave of her hand, the Inquisitor dismissed them all, save for the commodore. The formers set off to their respected posts after a crisp salute.

The commodore nodded back with a warm smile but that quickly soured the moment he laid eyes on the red headed woman. The same could be seen in the faces of the other officers before leaving. Robin was surprised by this turn out. He didn't expect that the hostility to be shared by everyone in the room and not just by the Arbitrator.

" _Commodore Vivek, I introduce you to the Eldar Yizreel. Leader of, what could only be tra(_ **static)** _ated to as,_ _ **Avengers of Eldanesh**_ _. She is a guest in our ship and will be aiding us in (_ **static)** _. Inform your crew to treat with courtesy."_

The Commodore and some of the other crew members nearby did not look too pleased by the announcement. The entire command bridge halted in its tracks and fell silent to the point that you could hear a pin drop. The crew displayed expressions of shock. Some seething anger with their hands hovering above their holsters. Most simply glared at the red headed woman. Mouthing curses and gestures to either each other or to her.

" _If I could be frank, Madame Inquisitor."_ Commodore Vivek retorted. _"For many of your loyal servants and crew_. ( **static)** _find an alien in their midst is…more than incomprehensible. There will no doubt garner complaints an(_ **static)** _offenses_."

" _I expected as much."_ The Inquisitor said dryly.

The Inquisitor walked towards the helm of the command bridge. A spot that had her tower over everyone in the entire room and caused everyone to fall silent. From the lowliest of desk jockeys, to the holy red-cloaked persons, and to the regal attending officers. All watched in attention to the woman standing tall and proudly above them.

The Inquisitor made the announcement with a calm yet cold voice

" _Any concerns or complaints any person here has regarding the presence of our Eldar guests (_ _ **static)**_ _are to be delivered directly to me_. _I will perso(_ **static)** _ly take into account of each and every one of your inquiries, one-on-one. You all know where to find me. (_ **static)** _That is all."_

That said, the Inquisitor walked away from the helm. She did not even care to dismiss and watch for ever man and woman sheepishly return to their duties. The Arbitrator however remained. It was there that Robin saw the looks in the crew's eyes. There he realised that being in the same room with the Inquisitor must be a more terrifying fate than anything for the people in their ship.

" _Have I made things clear enough, Commodore?"_ The Inquisitor asked.

" _I will make sure to relay it down the line."_ Commodore Vivek replied dutifully. Without a missing a step. " _But just as long as THIS_ _x(_ **static)** _behaves herself in turn_."

The commodore pointed that one out to the red haired woman. The woman Robin mistakenly thought was named Eldar. Eldar Yizreel admirably took no offense to the obvious disdain the officer had on her. She simply locked eyes with him. Acknowledging him with uncaring eyes. The commodore simply huffed in turn and subtly cracked his knuckles.

" _I take it that this one here will be keeping an eye on that_ _ **thing**_ _then_?" Commodore Vivek asked the Inquisitor while motioning to the Arbitrator. His tone towards him were as cold as the one he gave Eldar Yizreel.

" _With two eyes preferably, Commodore_." The Arbitrator replied indifferently.

" _Be wary that you won't lose both, Mon'Keigh_." Eldar said icily.

" _A fair trade (_ **static)** _for your head, Xeno_." The Arbitrator countered venomously. " _Doubt your kind c(_ **static)** _grow THOSE back."_

" _Save those threats in a more opportune time, Arbitrator."_ The Inquisitor said before turning to Eldar. _"Bringing you here was already a controversial affair, Eldar. More so is this Alliance of ours the(_ **static)** _hangs by a thead as it is. Now, can you behave like a good Xeno_ ( **static)** _or will am I to send you back to your ship through the airlock?"_

" _Very droll, Inquisitor. Let us not sta(_ **static)** _in ceremony then._ " Eldar Yizreel replied. " _We have much to discuss (_ **static)**."

Before Robin could know more, the static swallowed up the whole screen in a sea of black and white pixels.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The video noise subsided and the scene remained on the Command Bridge. The Eldar Yizreel was missing in the room – much to Robin's disappointment. But apart from that, little has changed to his surroundings. He wouldn't realize how wrong he was until the audio finally caught up with him.

Robin was jolted from his seat from the booming racket around him. The entire command bridge was in disarray. The desk jockeys worked feverishly in their posts while barking messages to each other or to their comlinks. All save for Commodore Vivek who stood tall and unmoved at the helm of the bridge like a bronze statue. His composure remained cool and collected but his once kind eyes displayed the same ferocity as his ship's guns that shook the very ground beneath their feet.

" _Starboard broadsides!_ _ **Fire**_ _!"_ Commodore Vivek commanded with his arms thematically outstretched. " _Lascannon batteries!_ _ **Fire**_ _!"_

The Arbitrator followed the officer's hand to the window. Watching the ship fire a barrage of cannon fire and beams of laser blasts at a group of enemy ships that were no more than dots in the distance. The hell they unleashed shook the ground beneath their feet. Coating the black void with streams of silver smoke and bright red beams that turned the enemy into a furious blaze of explosions.

The enemy however did not sit idly by while their fleet was being shredded to pieces. They retaliated with their own volley of torpedoes and launched hundreds of fighter crafts that gathered like a massive swarm of insects.

" _Redirect power to starboard Void shi(_ **static)** _s! 60%!"_ Commodore Vivek ordered with a booming voice. " _Deploy interceptors! Defense Batteries!_ _ **FIRE**_ _!"_

At his command, the _Eternal Vigilance_ deployed dozens of small fightercrafts. All formed up in orderly V-formations. A stark contrast to the enemies' disorganized swarm. The two groups clashed with a flurry of gunfire and explosions. Formations were scattered as individual fighters dueled one another in acrobatic duels that spread out for miles. Each ending with a spectacular explosion. Most of whom were from the enemies' rickety ships that were too bulky and slow compared to the more heavily armed and nimble ships.

These were losses that they could spare however as 2 more eagerly took their place to avenge to each of their fallen. Yet despite their living swarms with its sea of red hot bullets, many were easily destroyed by the human's agile crafts and by the _Eternal Vigilance's_ Anti-aircraft fire. Some of the human's fighters were destroyed however but at the cost of every 10 enemy ships. It did not take long for that swarm to be routed. Foolishly dispersing and allowed the human fighters to easily hunt them down in piecemeal.

The skirmish ended as quickly as it began with the remaining human fightercrafts limping back to the ship. The crew cheered at the sight of the burning remains of the enemy drifting amidst pillars of smoke. Even the Arbitrator joined in by applauding ecstatically. The only ones who did not join in the revelry were the Inquisitor, who remained impassively seated on her high chair, and Commodore Vivek who did not waste a second to deliver the next set of commands.

" _Helmsman_!" The Commodore ordered. "( **static)** _rn 30 degrees to port! Put us back in the main fight! Enginseer! Get the Nova Cannon ready for—"_

" _Xeno reinfo(_ _ **static)**_ _s on the starboard bow_!" An officer called out.

All eyes turned to the starboard bow and true enough, 4 silhouettes appeared from behind the thick wall of smoke. Those emerged as fully armed Battleships that has their course straight towards them in a straight line formation. They were larger from the ships that they destroyed a few seconds ago but were utterly unimpressive and unsightly at the same time. At least in Robin's eyes.

They were a mismatched collection of junk and scrap metal that looked like it was meshed together by an overzealous art student who had no talent. Not one of those ships were identical in any way but what they do have in common were their shoddy appearance and ugly aesthetics. Plumes of smoke belched out from its burning engines and from the forest of pipes that popped out from nowhere. Debris spilled out from its every open crevice. Plates of their so called armor might as well have been taped together since some were flapping on the ship's Hull like bird's feathers. To top it off, hundreds, if not thousands, of guns messily stuck out of them like porcupine quills.

How something like that was able to function properly was beyond Robin's knowledge. He half expected it to fall apart easily from the slightest impact from a solid object. Or in this case, after one volley of the _Eternal Vigilance's_ guns. Robin could not have been more wrong as those ships came at them in a straight line formation and stubbornly shrugged off every blast that struck it. Their grotesque figurehead of a sharp toothed beast grinning at them amidst the flames and wreckage splattering on its face. Welcomingly eating every shell and beam of light that found its way into its gaping maw.

" _They use each other as living shields."_ The Arbitrator remarked to himself. " _Sacri(_ **static)** _g the front most ship to spare the others from our barrage whilst still pressing forward. How fitting_."

" _The fools aim to ram us!_ " Commodore Vivek cried. _"Let them try! They foolishly crossed the T! We will send that pathetic excuse of a fleet to Hell! Voidsmen of the Imperi(_ **static)**. _UNLEASH THE EMPEROR'S WRATH_!"

" _FOR THE EMPEROR!"_ Everyone cried in unison.

The ship shook once more as it unleashed a barrage of heavy cannon fire at the closest enemy ship. Explosions and gouts of fire spread on the ramshackle ship's front prow. Demolishing its piggish figurehead to molten metal and turning many of its guns to scrap. More explosions followed only this time it came from inside the enemy ship. Collateral as the damage it took was, the Commodore's attack did little to halt the enemy ship's advance.

" _Helmsman! 70 degrees star(_ **static)** _d_! _Drop the bow at 20 degrees!"_ Commodore Vivek commanded. His voice remained powerful and unperturbed. " _Keep up the pressure with the cannons! (_ **static)** _pare torpedoes to launch! Charge up the Nova Cannon!"_

The ship followed suit and groaned as it turned to face the enemy vessels. The frontwards bow dipped its head. Allowing all upper deck turrets in both the starboard and port side to fire on the first incoming ship.

" _Torpedoes, deploy_!" Commodore Vivek's commanded. " _All batteries,_ _ **FIRE**_!"

A flurry of lasers struck the enemy ship in a blink of an eye. Melting the cobbled steel that exploded the moment a salvo of shells collided with it. The ship's snarling bow

Damaged as it already was, the smoke enveloped enemy ship had the gall to shoot back. Torpedoes and missiles from both sides struck each other midway in a flurry of explosions. Many however managed to break through and flew towards them only to explode prematurely after colliding on an invisible field of energy. The enemy thankfully did not share the same fortune as the missiles and laser blasts struck them at full force. Some enemy missiles managed to break through the shields however and one took out one of the larger Lascannon batteries.

" _Enemy fighters incoming_!" An officer called out. " _Permission to deploy interceptors_?"

" _Request denied, Left-tenant."_ Commodore Vivek replied.

" _Our shields are going down, s(_ **static)**!" The same officer reported. " _I insist that we retaliate before we lose our guns!"_

" _Your concerns are duly noted, Left-tenant. But the E(_ **static)** _ror knows that we will not fall against this paltry attack."_

" _But the damage we'll sustain—"_ The Officer insisted.

" _Is acceptable for the time being."_ The Commodore silenced him.

Admirable as his words were, it did little to hold back the tide. The shields have gone down by then and the enemy fighters have begun strafing on the _Eternal Vigilance_ 's upper deck. The AA guns were hard pressed against the swarm and many slipped past their field of fire. By the time the enemy have made their rounds and retreated, 2 of the ship's heavy cannonswere destroyed while another one was disabled. Numerous crewmen were no doubt killed judging by the destruction the enemy left in their wake.

" _Nova Cannon is ready, sir!"_ Another Officer requested. There was panic in her tone.

" _Good. Fire on my c(_ **static)** _mand alone_." Commodore Vivek commanded. Much to the shock of the crew. " _Keep up the barrage. Concentrate fire on that scrap heap_!"

"What the heck is he waiting for?" Robin asked aloud. Skeptical of the Commodore's actions. The suspense and the direness of their situation was killing him inside.

Even the Arbitrator was skeptical to the Commodore's designs.

" _It's not enough_." He observed as he turned to the Inquisitor.

Not a sign of alarm was hinted in his tone.

Looking to the side, he found the Inquisitor completely unperturbed by their dire circumstances. She sat silently on her throne with her chin resting on her hand while the other lazily tapped on her bronze seat. Her steely eyes however glared towards the battle with intensity.

She must have heard what the Arbitrator said since she turned to him with her dark purple eyes and etched a smirk. Almost as though she was teasing the Arbitrator with something he did not know.

" _Be patient and keep watch, (_ **static)** _Less you miss it."_ The Inquisitor was all she said to him before turning her sights back to the fight.

" _Emperor preserve us. Deliver us fro(_ **static)** _our enemies."_ The Arbitrator whispered to himself. Speaking as though saying it in prayer. Obviously doubting the Inquisitor's confidence on the mad Commodore.

Robin felt the tension but held his tongue and watched with expecting eyes. As luck would have it, the enemy ship that was in the middle of barreling towards them, unexpectedly turned its course. A chain of explosions erupted from that ship's rear while its hull began to break apart.

Reinforcements immediately came to mind. Help arriving to save them. One could only imagine the look on the boy's face once he realized that only half of that was true. Indeed they were blessed by good fortune, but not from any ally they knew off. The enemy ship was blown off course by one of its own allies from behind. The latter plowed through them like a runaway train and sent the former spinning out of course.

" _Impatient sons of bitches are (_ _ **static)**_ _ng our job for us_." The Arbitrator summed up Robin's confusion.

Eager for battle, the enemy attacked their wounded ally with hopes of getting their turn to fight. Robin could only gawk at the enemy's stupidity and bloodlust. Shocked by how little they think of their allies that they would eagerly destroy their own just to satisfy their primitive needs.

" _Indeed they are_." The Inquisitor replied. " _The Emperor provides the faithful. That much is certain._ "

" _Amen."_ The Arbitrator agreed.

As impressive as the scene was, the tide has yet to fully shift to their favour. Two ships were now in view and both were still in the fight. The damaged first ship slowly spun aimlessly into space but still struggled to get back to its feet. The second one careened towards them a swarm of enemy fighters and waves of torpedoes. The third enemy ship also appeared into view not far behind the second ship with its own swarm of fighters close at hand.

" _With that (_ **static)** , _they fall right into our hands."_ The Inquisitor said confidently.

" _ **NOVA CANNON**_ _!_ _ **FIRE**_ _!"_ Commodore Vivek commanded. Much to the fanfare of th crew.

A bright pulsating blue light emitted from the _Eternal Vigilance's_ prow. Launching a projectile that left ripples of energy in its wake. Thousand miles of miles were covered in a blink of a second before disappearing in the midst of the enemy.

Robin feared that it was a dud before he was suddenly blinded by a flash of white light. Sound cannot be carried in the vacuum of space but Robin could have sworn that he felt his insides shudder from the hair rising might that the Nova Cannon had unleashed. It left no explosion in the distance. No shrapnel. No debris. All it left was a searing blue ball of light that shined as bright as a small star before disappearing in a blink and taking the three battlecruisers with it. The three and their fleet of star fighters were all but a memory. Turned into nothingness and dust.

As beautiful as all that was, Robin couldn't help but be fearful of its sheer power. The Nova Cannon was no more than a doomsday weapon. One that could easily destroy the better part of a planet or an entire moon. The lives it could take and has already taken goes beyond his imagination. It was a terrifying reality as it was.

Only one enemy ship remained from the original four but it did not survive the blast unscathed. Fire broke out on its hull while massive storms of electricity lashed out from its many gaping wounds. The poor old thing had already begun to fall apart and began limping away from the battle.

" _Xeno battlecruiser is on the retreat_." An officer reported amidst the crew's cheers, " _Sha(_ **static)** _we pursue?"_

" _No need. It appears that_ _ **she**_ _will be dealing with our scraps_." Commodore Vivek motioned to a small spacecraft that zoomed passed them. Leaving behind a bright trail of light as it engaged the retreating enemy battle cruiser. " _Turn us about, Helms(_ **static)** _n."_

The Commodore turned his sights to the port side of the ship as it slowly charted to a new course. The Arbitrator on the other hand kept his sights on that curious tiny vessel that raced alongside the wounded enemy ship's side. It was a tiny ship compared to the hulking patchwork monstrosity. Like a fly that buzzes around a bleeding hog. Moving speedily through complex and flashy maneuvered while blasting it apart with its bright beams of light while dodging the storm of gunfire unleashed by what working weapons the behemoth had left.

The enemy fired with wild abandon. Some even shot at each other by mistake while others blew up all on their own. Thus making it easier for the tiny ship to strike at the enemy's weak points and quickened the behemoth's destruction. One point blank shot into the enemy's command bridge sent what's left of the burning wreck crashing into a nearby asteroid in a fiery explosion.

The tiny ship on the other hand was miles away by then and zoomed past the _Eternal Vigilance's_ bridge, thus giving Robin a good view of its features. Unlike the _Eternal Vigilance's_ eagle shaped design that was shared by the other ships in their fleet, this one was more akin to a sports fish. Complete with wide electrical like fins. It also looked sleeker and more advanced than the others Robin had seen in the fleet.

Victorious as that tiny ship was, none of the staff applauded. The Arbitrator was also not at all impressed. Instead he growled and grasped onto the railings tightly. He would have no doubt been scowling the entire time.

" _The Eldar requests…to embark onto our Cruiser_." Commodore Vivek said with visible hesitation. _"They claim to be in need of repair(_ **static)** _ **.**_ _It will not take long, they say."_

" _Arrogant_ ( **static)** _itch_." The Arbitrator remarked under his breath.

" _So be it."_ The Inquisitor replied. _"They are allies at present and have shed their fair share of blood against our enemies. Hangar (_ **static)** _is vacant, yes?"_

Her response must have been a shock to him since he quickly turned his sights towards her. The railings he was holding wined as it bent at the same time. The woman however either didn't notice him or ignored him completely.

" _It is ma'am_." Commodore Vivek replied.

" _You have your orders then_." The Inquisitor dismissed him.

" _It will_ ( **static)** _e done_." Commodore Vivek saluted and left.

" _Captain Lev_!" The Inquisitor called out.

Not a second passed before a clean shaven man in dark blue armor and a beret appeared in front of her.

" _Captain Herzt Lev, of the Tempestus Scions._ ( **static)** _orting for duty, sir_!" Captain Lev said enthusiastically with a stiff salute.

" _Report to Hangar 3. Oversee the Eldar_." The Inquisitor ordered. " _Bring the Arbitr(_ **static)** _or. And make sure that everyone there behaves."_

" _Yes_ , _sir_!" Captain Lev saluted once more before marching off.

The Arbitrator however remained.

" _Permission to speak freely, Madame Inquisitor_?" The Arbitrator asked.

" _No you may not, Ar(_ **static)** _ator Nidarr_." The Inquisitor responded with an impatient hand. "I already know what you are going to say and I tire of it."

" _Madame_ —" the Arbitrator motioned to speak and was but was quickly silenced by a simple stern glance by the Inquisitor.

" _Listen well, boy_." The Inquisitor said. " _There are more to this univ(_ **static)** _se than the Imperium's Laws. As well as the_ _ **Holy Truth**_ _. Our enemies are nume(_ **static)** s _and not bound to our scriptures. To overcome them. To stop them (_ **static)** _ore their filthy seeds can bear fruit. One must (_ **static)** _t those circumstances. Even our Glorious Emperor is not spared from that. More so against the Enemy, boy."_

The Arbitrator peered at the people around them. As though trying not to be overheard.

" _You speak of_ _ **heresy**_ _Inquisitor."_ The Arbitrator hissed.

The Inquisitor abruptly stood up from her seat and grabbed the Arbitrator by his coat. Harshly pulling him close with her face to his ear.

" _Heresy_." The Inquisitor scoffed. " _I know of no better excuse to end a losing argument, my naïve acolyte. The_ _ **Progenium**_ _has worked a little too well on you, Mateus_ _. It has blunted your imagi(_ **static)** _n and narrowed your mind. The Emperor's Will, though absolute, can only take you so far bef_ ore _the universe spits somethi(_ _ **static)**_ _harder your way. You still have much to learn. And learn it fast."_

" _That witch and her kind cant be trusted_." The Arbitrator persisted.

The Inquisitor pushed him away. Once again, she reappeared in the screen.

" _Trust was ne_ _ **static**_ _r on the table, boy."_ The Inquisitor saidwhile straightening out the Arbitrator's collar. _"Why else do I always put you two in the same room? That Xeno is s(_ _ **static)**_ _a means to an end. A valuable asset to me as she was to my old mentor. No different from you are. You'd do well to rem(_ **static)** _ber your rank, Arbitrator. Before (_ **static)** _day comes I find myself a more useful replacement. Dismissed."_

" _Yes, Inquisitor_!" The Arbitrator begrudgingly obeyed and gave a crisp salute before walking away.

Trickles of static began to rummage the screen once more just as the Arbitrator met up with Captain Lev at the foot of the staircase. The Officer went on to say something as they walked but his voice became garbled just as the video noise became erratic.

" _Give it up,_ ( **static)** _tor_." The Captain said supportively. He tried to pat the Arbitrator in the shoulder but backed off the moment he met the man's eye. _"Her title puts her above a lot of things_."

" _Nothing stands above the law, Cap(_ **static)** _ev_." The Arbitrator replied dismissively. " _Less she be the Emperor Himself."_

Sound became disoriented by now. Drowning out anything coherent from the exchange between the two. As the two walked, Robin was shown a glimpse of the battle happening above them. The threat the _Eternal Vigilance_ just faced was no more than a paltry force compare to the massive fleet that appeared before them. Scores of explosions, whizzing missile fire, and scattered debris from ruined ships littered the void. The amount of those smoldering remains made it clear that this battle has been happening for quite a while now.

More of these massive ramshackle ships numbered in the hundreds. Burning the black curtain with their furious hell spouting engines. Relentlessly they fired at the beleaguered human ships. Clumsily ramming them from all sides until the latter blew up to pieces. It costed them more ships to destroy one of the human's sword ships but these were losses that they can accept. Ten more were ready to take their place. The humans in turn could barely keep up as many fell prey to the ludicrous amount of gunfire the enemy unleashed on them.

How they could have survived this was beyond Robin's machinations but the answer would never come to his reach because the screen turned to sand once more.

XXXXXX

Various silhouetted figures appeared amidst the soup of video noise. Figures that moved erratically and indescribably that it made Robin dizzy from simply looking at them. Sounds of gunfire and explosions were heard in the background. Adding itself to the already insufferable noise. The chaos thankfully parted and presented him an entirely new scene. A scene that gave the Boy Wonder a taste of the grimdarkness that was to come.

Robin found himself inside a dimly lit hall. A far cry from the bright cathedral and the glorious command bridge from before. Echoes of gunfire and shouting amidst the clashing of steel were heard all around him while thick smoke polluted the air. The blaring red lights of alarm only made the place looked very sinister and more gruesome given by the amount of corpses littered around them. From both human and alien alike.

In front of him, lying flat on the ground under him, was a defeated foe. It was a creature with an unrecognizable bloodied face. An alien that was beaten to a pulp by the inch of its life with its eyes gouged deep into its sockets.

Robin had mistaken this creature for a Martian because of its green skin. He pitied it as it coughed out globs of blood and spat pieces of its shattered teeth as it laid on its side. The Arbitrator did not share this concern as he punched the alien with a booming shout. The punch was strong and shattered bones. A strike that would have no doubt kill the poor alien or knocked it out cold. A shame that it didn't.

The Arbitrator was prepared to throw another punch when he was abruptly kicked by a heavy boot that sent him careening onto the floor. It was here that Robin realized his folly on these aliens.

* * *

"That's not a Martian." Robin realized as he saw the massive menacing creature towering over them in a better light. A far cry from it.

* * *

The alien was massive. Looking down on them with its heavy brow that shaded the bloodlust in its eyes. Solid muscles made up every crevice of its body underneath a layer of leather thick skin. Green skin that was poorly concealed underneath armor made out of mismatched pieces of scrap metal. Humanoid as it was, its figure was more ape-like than man with long and heavy arms nearly scraped the floor as it walked and a heavy jaw that carried a wide collection of jagged dagger-like fangs.

" _Oy! Dat's ma chum ya ju(_ **static)** _clobber'd, 'Umie_!" The alien gutturally spoke while clanging its bloody axe on the floor.

" _He sealed his fate the moment you stepped_ ( **static)** _to this vessel, Ork_." The Arbitrator sneered. _"As have you."_

With a flick of his wrist, he unsheathed a heavy looking mace that emitted a bright hue of crackling electricity.

" _Allow me to reunite t(_ **static)** _two of you in hell."_ The Arbitrator challenged.

" _ **WAAAAAAAAGH**_!" The Ork yelled as it charged. Leaping high in the air with its axe raised high.

The Arbitrator caught it with his buckler where it deployed into a much larger shield that emitted a faint hum and a light blue field. The axe was deflected by a powerful force that threw itself from the Orks hand. Sending it spinning harmlessly in the dark.

That same force pushed the Ork back. Leaving itself open for the Arbitrator to strike it on its leg with his mace. Bending the fat limb in two and sending the alien to tumble forward mid-air before falling hard on its back.

The Arbitrator did not hesitate to quickly dropping his mace on the Ork's head with three heavy blows that turned its head into paste.

" _That…makes 10_." The Arbitrator said in between heavy breaths.

His heartrate shown in his HUD had it beating at a rapid rate. That, and his trembling hands showed signs of exhaustion. Robin could only wonder how long he has been doing this.

" _Emperor provide… me G(_ **static)** _tealers_ _anyday."_ The Arbitrator spoke while injecting himself with a syringe between the gaps of his armor on his wrist. " _And spare me. The stench of these Greenskins."_

The drug increased his heartrate and eased his breathing. It did not provide the rest he needed but it provided him with the strength to keep going. But for how long and at what cost is up to debate. Robin was all too familiar with the myriad of possible side effects of overdosing on performance enhancing drugs.

" _By the Throne."_ The Arbitrator held onto his chest as he coughed out blood. " _How (_ **static)** _I still alive?"_

Not soon after his victory over the headless Ork did the sounds of frantic footsteps were heard from another corridor ahead of them. Four injured men emerged bloodied and wounded out into the Hall. Running like the devil was hot in their heels. They stopped in their tracks the second they spotted the Arbitrator.

" _ **HEL**_ _-"_ one of the men shouted at him before he was cut in half by a storm of bullets.

The man's other comrades were shot down as well by a ravenous barrage. The ones doing the shooting boomed with war cries and ecstatic bellowing that were much louder than their own boisterous guns. What emerged out of that hall were more of those green-skins with massive fists, blood coated blades, and smoking hot guns. They were a large group. In both the literal sense in terms of their size but also by their numbers.

6 by Robin's count. 6 massive muscular Orks armed with brutal and bloodied weapons next to their massive firearms made out of scrapmetal. All 6 of them made a wide cat-like grime the moment they caught side of the Arbitrator. Their next prey. All 6 of them looked at him hungrily with eyes drowning with bloodlust. Almost like they were savoring the fine meal that was to come.

" _Lerks loike we gots usse(_ **static)** _lfs 'nuther u'mie, boyz_ " the largest Ork pointed at the Arbitrator. " _Lerks loike a fighta! An' a odd one, too."_

"' _E no look so tuff, Boss_." Another Ork spoke. " _Lemme 'ave a crack at 'im_!"

The Boss Ork stupidly pondered about it before spitting out its comically large cigar.

"( **static)** _Don't lose yer 'ead_." The Boss Ork said before pushing that same Ork forward. The latter took out its massive club and licked its dirty yellow teeth hungrily.

" _I'll make sure he does,_." The Arbitrator retorted without a sliver of fear heard in his voice.

The Orks laughed aloud at this. All except that other Ork who instead fumed and gripped its mace so tight that it could almost snapped.

" _Chou got a big mouth, 'umie_." The Ork said.

" _And an uglier one with yours."_ The Arbitrator retorted with a bored tone. _"So are you (_ **static)** _coming or what_ _?"_

" _ **GOOOOOOAAAAAAAAERRR!"**_ The Ork roared and charged at him.

The Ork did not make it past five steps before the Arbitrator shot it with his pistol. Two deafening quick blasts erupted. Two of its knees exploded in a mess of blood and bones. Both circumstances sent the lumbering beast stumbling forwards and fell onto the floor. Yet in a last and desperate attempt to defeat its foe, the Ork raised its mace. Intending to cleave its enemy in two before falling to the ground.

But even this was denied by the Arbitrator when he quickly shot that Ork's hand off. Turning everything above its wrist into a fine red mist. Figuratively and literally disarming the hot blooded beast. The Ork didn't seem to have noticed its maimed hand until it had dropped on its bloodied knees. It looked at its mangled hand stupidly before turning its angered gaze at the Arbitrator who was now towering over him.

" _Pathetic_." The Arbitrator sneered.

Unarmed, incapacitated, and seconds away from death, the Ork could do little else other than make a bellowing roar that displayed a wide mouth filled with rows of deshevelled and rotten teeth. A fIlthy display that was quickly silenced when an iron mace came crashing down its oversized head.

One blow caved in the Ork's thick skull. Popping its eyes out from its sockets and its tongue lashed out from its mouth. The second blow shattered its skull. Splattering its blood and brains all over the place. Including the Arbitrator's own visor. A view that made Robin upchuck something in his throat. The third and last blow sent the oversized cadaver slamming at a nearby wall with a loud splat.

" _Next?"_ The Arbitrator mocked remaining Orks before shooting one of them with his pistol.

Blowing up an eye didn't kill the alien, but it did make it blind, and angry. The Arbitrator only had time to shoot once more before the other Orks fired back. That one bullet, though fired prematurely, struck the biggest Ork in its right trigger hand. The Arbitrator only caught glimpse of that Ork cursing and waving its hand wildly before taking cover behind his small buckler.

" _ **DAKKA! DAKKA! DAKSTATICKA! DAKKA! DAKKA! STATICKA!"**_ The Orks screamed. The audio was going haywire from the booming noise.

Loud boisterous gunfire engulfed the entire hall from an unrelenting barrage of hot white bullets that pierced the air. Sparks and bullet holes littered the hall as they struck or richoteted on the walls and the floor.

Three massive rounds already struck him before he managed to deploy the buckler into a much larger shield that sang as the never ending hail of lead clanged harmlessly against its steel. Only the small viewport on the shield was his only safe window to keep keep an eye on his ecstatic enemies amidst the onslaught.

It was through that viewport that Robin noticed the fruits of the Arbitrator's recent labours. Those two bullets, despite not succeeded in killing the two beasts, managed to slightly tilt the scales to the Arbitrator's favor.

The Ork carriying a heavy cannon was the one he shot at in the eye. It fired a powerful yet slow gun with massive bullets that could cut a man in half with one shot. Blinded by its own blood, the Ork won't be able to shoot an elephant standing in front of him. The Ork Boss on the other hand lost two of its front fingers. Fingers that would have helped using its double barreled machine gun a lot easier. Lacking the digits and slicking his spares with blood, the best the large Ork could do was fire in short clumsy bursts.

The rest only carried bulky pistols but this did not make them any less dangerous. By dumb luck, a few slugs struck the Arbitrator's legs. His HUD blared red from the damage, but the Arbitrator did not complain. Nor did he make a sound when a slug tore through his leg. The damage quickly became too severe and he was forced to kneel to the ground so his shield could cover them too.

" _ **Ragh**_!" The Ork Boss suddenly yelled. It tossed its gun to the side and unsheathed its giant machete. _**"Time ta bust skullz, boyz! Rip im up!"**_

" _ **WAAAGH!"**_ The other Orks cried as they unsheathed their own blades.

Doom came in the form of 6 Orks coming at him like mad bulls. Beasts who shook the ground with their every step. Brutes who went pushing and shoving at each other in the narrow corridors. Each warrior selfishly longing to draw first blood.

If it were Robin on the reins, he would have retreated. Relocate and take them down one by one in a more advantageous location because chances of facing even one of those beasts mean certain death. But he was not in control of this story. The Arbitrator instead stood his ground. Readying his weapons to face them had on.

With a loud grunt, the Arbitrator braced against an axe that crashed onto his shield. A blue light lit the rims of the shield and deflected the Ork's blow. That same Ork was thrown back and collided with one of its comrades to the floor. Another axe was deftly blocked by his mace and moved it as to leave the Ork open for a blow with his shield. The solid steel plate displaced its jaw and took out a handful of its teeth.

" _ **Aagh**_!" The Arbitrator cried when a serrated blade struck him othe side.

The blade did not penetrate his armor but it did punch him off a few inches from the ground. A painful experience no doubt that must have costed him a few ribs. His HUD blared red from the impact. His armor outline under the chest area was in critical condition.

Acting fast, the Arbitrator pinned that Ork's arm in place with his left shield-hand. Exerting great strength, he dislocated it from its elbow backwards with a loud snap. Another Ork jumped at him from the side but the Arbitrator struck it in the arm that sent its axe swinging at one of its comrades. Keeping up the momentum, the Arbitrator turned his mace to that same Ork with the broken arm. Ready to finish off that foe until a large mangled hand tightly grabbed him by the throat. That same hand lifted him off the ground and slammed him hard on the wall.

Unlike the Arbitrator who was no doubt dazed from the attack, Robin was immune to any cause or injury caused by whatever was on screen. Save for the static flashes that appeared from time to time that is. Not that it was any improvement however. Robin had to settle for an unwanted clear look of the Ork Boss's filthy, ugly, monstrous, amd scar pocked face.

The Ork Boss was as big as Bane cooked up on Venom. Maybe even bigger. Compared to the beast's monstrous size, the Arbitrator might as well be an insignificant toy ready to be tossed or torn apart.

" _ **Ya fight good fer a 'u(STATIC)."**_ The Ork Boss gave a crooked smile. Its massive rusted metal claws hovered in front of the Arbitrator's face.

" _Can't. Say the."_ The Arbitrator croaked. " _Same for._ _ **YOU**_!"

Robin squirmed on his seat when the Arbitrator shoved his whole hand into the Ork boss's eye. The alien howled and roared. Amidst the cheers and jeers of the other Orks who were treating the whole thing like a bar brawl.

Spit splashed itself on the camera. The scene was a mess to watch as the Ork thrashed its arms around. Struggling to get rid of the man who had its mits on its eyeball. With its metal claws on hand, the Ork wildly stabbed and slashed at the Arbitrator. All of which fell short as the Arbitrator's shield warded them off from his other hand. Redirecting the blades to land only inches away from his face and from the screen.

" _Frak_!" The Arbitrator cursed when he lost his grip and fell hard on the floor. Shaking the camera from the impact.

Or so Robin thought. A glance to the side showed the Arbitrator's blood stained right hand. To Robin's horror, he saw the Ork Boss's squashed red eye and bits of its brains on the palm of the man's hand. Something that it's owner was not at all happy about.

" _ **GRROOOOOAAAAAHHHHHHH!"**_ The Ork Boss bellowed in both anger and pain. Its metal claw revving loudly for an attack. Billows of black smoke churned from its makeshift engine.

" _ **HAHAHAHA!"**_ The Arbitrator laughed maniacally with his fist striking on the floor." _ **C'MON, YOU!"**_

The Ork Boss lunged forward at the roar of its claw. By dumb luck, the attack missed its mark. All four blades embedded themselves to the wall just inches away from the Arbitrator. The only damage they've dealt was leaving a deep scratch on the side of his armor.

The Arbitrator moved to gain his footing but stopped on his tracks when a curved sword appeared in front of him. Like a living beast, the blade hummed and growled. Black blood dripped from its many dagger-like teeth. Akin to a predator with a fresh kill.

" _For ones with short lives, you h(_ _ **static)**_ _foolishly pursue death._ "A woman said before flicking the blood off of her sword at the Arbitrator. " _Let me spare you fr(_ _ **static)**_ _humiliation_."

While the Arbitrator hastily wiped the blood off his visor, Robin watched his unknown rescuer strike down the gargantuan Ork with a flurry of furious strikes. She cut and slashed so fast that the blade might as well have been air. Too fast for the naked eye to follow.

The blood made it difficult to make anything out. The most any of him could see was that the gargantuan Ork Boss was being struck down by an unknown assailant. Cut and slashed apart by a flurry strikes that moved too fast for the naked eye to follow. In a blink, the once mighty Ork Boss was now a pile of shredded meat and viscera that splattered itself all over the hall.

Between the dumbfounded Orks and the seething Arbitrator, a tall woman stood tall and proud. The elaborate spikes of black and the orange make of her armor glistened bright in the dark. Her furious red hair danced like flames while her curved blade hummed at her every move.

"Yes!" Robin couldn't help but cheer at the second appearance of the beautiful Eldar Yizreel.

The alien stole the scene for him once again by her amazing entrance. Elegant as always even after a kill. Not a drop of blood stained her after expertly dispatching the monstrous beast.

" _You just c(_ _ **static)**_ _dn't keep up with me, Alien_." The Arbitrator groaned before striking his mace on the ground. Planting it in place to be used as a crutch to get himself back on his feet.

His eyes were pointed right at the crowd of angry Orks. No doubt glaring at them the entire time. With the crackling whine of his mace, he charged towards the Orks.

" _Avenge Eldanesh!"_ Yizreel cried off screen before appearing above of the screen. Leaping blade first into the fray.

Two Orks fell to her sword before her feet touched the ground. Killing both of them simultaneously whilst spinning midair like a fluttering red blossom of death. Her every move was so fluid and precise that Robin almost mistaken it all for a well coreographed dance. Everything within the woman's reach was entirely in her control. Not one enemy or their weapons could challenge or enter it without losing a limb or their life. As was shown by the last two Orks who dared get in her way.

" _Knife-eared, fuck_." Robin heard the Arbitrator curse under his breath.

" _Let's_ _do_ _this."_ The Arbitrator huffed with a grenade in hand.

He ran towards the fray and tossed it there. The grenade clattered and clanked as it rolled on the floor and exploded in the middle of Yizreel's duel with the two remaining Orks.

One of the aliens took the brunt of the blast and threw half of it forward in the air. Right into the waiting arms of the Arbitrator who struck it in the face with a baseball swing with his crackling mace. Hitting the ork square in the face. Its head exploded from the impact head and sent the rest of its body splattering somewhere behind him.

The Arbitrator did not stop to look as he kept on running forward for the last remaining Ork who groggily stayed on its feet. Its ears rang from the loud blast. Its skin was bleeding and torn from numerous cuts from the shrapnel.

That same Ork managed to keep itself on its feet also took the brunt of the damage but managed to stay on its feet by leaning on the nearby wall. Whether it was spared by its armor or by its thick skin, the beast was only left stunned but not uninjured. It groggily stumbled backwards with its ringinging ears and numerous bleeding wounds in its body. The Arbitrator didn't give it a second to recover.

" _ **GRAH!"**_ The Arbitrator yelled as he struck the Ork with a two handed swing to its head.

The impact of the swing echoed throughout the corridor. The mace shattered the Ork's teeth as the weapon found itself in its mouth. Burying its head inside the large dent on the solid steel wall behind it. Blood pooled out of its hanging jaw the moment the Arbitrator pried the mace out of its face with some effort.

Drawing his pistol, he emptied it in the Ork's head with three shots that finally killed it and the last of the ragged band.

" _A warning would have been proper_." Yizreel seethed coldly from behind him. She did not raise her voice, but the venom in her tone was clear.

" _You took too long."_ The Arbitrator said dismissively without turning to face her.

His attention was on his weapon that he ripped free from the foul charred corpse. A few taps on the wall sprinkled a handful of black ash of meat and brains all over the floor.

" _You almost had me killed."_

" _I'll make a better effort the (_ **static)** _xt time._ " The Arbitrator shot back while reloading the final touches of reloading his revolver. The context of his words were a bit hazy for Robin read properly.

Figures appeared in his HUD's radar map. Blips of light coming from behind them. Friendlies by the looks of their colors. These quickly revealed themselves as Captain Lev and a handful of his fellow Stormtroopers who appeared from around the corner. Running towards them down t eh hall strewn with scattered corpses.

" _The Gellar chamber is near!"_ The Arbitrator called out to them. " _Hop two before you get left behind."_

XXXXXX

" _ **RUUUUUN!"**_ The Arbitrator shouted to the others while they sprinted as fast as their legs could carry them. **"** _ **GO! GO! GO!"**_

Robin was snapped into an entirely different scene. Everything around him was falling apart to pieces or was bursting to flames. People were panicking and running off with fear etched on their faces. The metal whined as they bent and began to glow red from the heat. Bolts and screws were shooting out of the walls like bullets. Some of it shot down a lowly crew member to pieces before it was shoved aside by the Arbitrator. He could barely hear anything between the booming noise, the chaotic gunfire, the incoherent shouting, and the torrents of static happening at the same time.

" _The Gellar Field's melting down!"_ Captain Lev pushed the stormtroopers forward. " _Get to the l(_ **static)** _!"_

" _Run like a Commissar's behind you!"_ A stormtrooper cried.

A mechanical voice was heard speaking from the broadcast.

" **TIS BETTER TO LIVE FOR THE EMPEROR static THAN TO LIVE WITH YOURSE—"**

A sharp piece of debris whistled and embedded itself on a wall in front of the Arbitrator. Inches away from his head just as he swung around a corner. The lifts were a few meters ahead of him now. Only one elevator remained open and Captain Lev kept it ajar. Calling and pulling people inside.

" _Mateus!"_ The Captain called out. " _C'mon!"_

The Arbitrator stumbled a few steps as he ran. Throwing himself inside at his last leg where he was caught by the waiting arms of his comrades.

All of them fell silent. All of them paused, the moment an explosion was heard from the distance. The floor beneath their feet rumbled violently. Throwing everyone to the ground. The Arbitrator had the misfortune of striking his head hard on the solid iron wall and crashing into his comrades.

" _Close it!"_ Captain Lev yelled. " _Fucking_ _close it_!"

" _It's fucking jammed!"_ A stormtrooper yelled while he feverishly pressed on the button.

The Arbitrator jolted himself upright only to see the corridor outside the elevator light up in front of them. Green flames belched itself outward from the other halls as though they were inside the belly of a monstrous dragon. Roaring as it entered their hall. Barrelling towards them while consuming everything in its path. The metal there screamed as they melted from the heat. Men caugh in its path fell silent as they turned to ash.

" _Emperor preserve us!"_ One of the stormtroopers panicked.

" _This is not how we shall die, Re'daar."_ They overheardYizreel confidently say to one of her cohorts.

" _Move_!" The Arbitrator pushed the others aside and began pulling the doors shut.

The metal whined as it bent under his fingers and groaned as the doors slowly began to move. The air felt hot and was set ablaze as the flames approached. Tongues of fire licked the Arbitrator's hands as he quietly struggled in his task.

The doors' teeth shatteringly screeched as they gave way and slammed with a loud boom just in time for the flames to touch them. Fire flicked out of the very narrow gaps between the doors but the elevator was quick on its ascent and saved them from a fiery death.

All of the soldiers in the elevator cheered ecstatically for their brush with death.

" _The Emperor_ Pr( **static)** cts _!_ " A stormtrooper cried out. His arms raised high.

" _THE EMPEROR PROTECTS_!" The other men responded jovially.

" _Yes_." The Arbitrator softly nodded. Probably with a smile etched on his face. " _Yes he does._ "

His gaze turned to Yizreel and her elegant escorts. They were not spared from their frivolity. But instead of joining the others in festivity, they instead simply kept to themselves. Speaking to each other in their foreign tongue with gleaming eyes.

" _Be_ _quiet_!" The Arbitrator barked the moment his earpiece rang. The others were quick to obey.

The Inquisitor was on the other line. Possibly expecting an update.

" _We failed."_ The Arbitrator said after a moment of steely silence. " _The Orks overran us. Enginseer —"_

" _Regroup at the Nest."_ The Inquisitor interrupted before hanging up.

" _What did she say?"_ Captain Lev asked.

" _The_ _Nest_." The Arbitrator sighed.

While Robin was lost on the meaning of those words, the message was clear for the other soldiers. They worldlessly began patching up their injuries, checking their guns, and taking inventory of their ammo. Even passing around a grenade or two for the others. What was made clear to Robin was the dejected and slightly hopless look these men shared with each other. Morale was low in that crowd.

" _The Nest, huh_?" They heard Captain Lev whistle. " _Tha's a bloody long way_."

" _I know_." The Arbitrator said while he injected another syringe into a gap of his armor by his wrist.

" _And with the Gellar Field gone—"_

" _Yes. They will be coming_." The Arbitrator said ominously. " _For all of us_."

" _By the Throne_." Someone said despondently.

A look of uncertainty and nervousness were seen from how the others reacted. Their tinted visors helped hide whatever fear or doubt could have etched itself in their eyes. Thankfully none of them panicked, or cause any riot to add in their already dire situation. But all of them were however eerily quiet. Too quiet in fact, for the Arbitrator's taste.

" _Oh, Almighty Emperor_!" The Arbitrator said aloud while he wiped the black blood off of his mace. " _Whose greatness_ and ( **static)** _dness knows no bounds."_

" _Whose power oversees above all_." Captain Lev joined him.

One by one, the other stormtroopers joined in and spoke as one.

" _Grant me the will to overcome thy challenges."  
"G(_ **static)** _me the strength to slay thy enemies."  
"Grant me the light to escape the darkness."  
"Grant me venge(_ **static)** _to lay waste to thy scourge!"_

They stopped the moment elevator rumbled and screetched to a violent stop. A myriad of muffled sounds were heard from outside. Desperate cries and monsterous voices echoed all around them. Bright Red light seeped through the gaps between the door. Akin to something out of a horror movie.

Something was waiting for them outside those doors and Robin had a feeling that it was something worse than Orks. Dread on the other hand seeped inside and turned the men around them to stone. Metaphorically speaking, Even Robin couldn't help but feel a chill crawl up his spine as his ears piqued from the madness coming from the other side.

" _From your H(_ **static)** _Grace, I shall keep faith!"_ the Arbitrator continued and drew his shotgun. " _FROM YOUR HOLY GRACE!_

"I SHALL KNOW NO FEAR!" The men shouted in reply. Their weapons hummed at the ready.

A gust of red mist welcomed them the moment doors rushed open. Fire and wreckage marred every inch of the corridor in front of them. One could only hope that those were broken wires hanging from the ceiling. Tortured faces appeared and faded from behind the smoke. Yellow eyes blinked from behind the shadows while numerous white teeth smiled at them in the dark.

" _IN NOMINE, DEUS IMPERATOR_!" Captain Lev cried out shouted just as the shadows moved against them..

" _ONLY IN DEATH DOES DUTY END_!" the others responded just as the Arbitrator lept first into the red mist.

XXXXXX

What came next was nothing short of utter madness and carnivorous violence. Indescribable scenes of horror for Robin as he watched as men, beast, and demons were being butchered around him.

The young Boy Wonder was never much of a God fearing child. He did not believe of miracles outside the eyes of science. He did not believe in the pearly gates or the old man living atop of clouds with baby like angels flying to his side. He didn't even believe in hell. That is, until he has caught a glimpse ofit from the Arbitrator's eyes.

Gotham helped in steeling himself from the horrors committed by man, but nothing could prepare him for the Grimdarkness of Hell. And it burned his eyes while he watched all its fearsome horrors. No book could have depicted it. No painting could represent it. No artform or terror could properly describe it until one has seen it for themselves.

Living human faces appeared on walls, the floors, and on every surface imaginable. Contorted and warped faces that wept tar or screamed in agonising cries. Cries that drowned out the noise of crackling gunfire and sounds of battle that the Arbitrator and his company waged against their enemies. Enemies the likes of which Robin has never seen or hoped to ever meet.

Grotesque creatures with disproportionate body parts. Red scaled devils with snarling faces of jagged teeth. Possessed humans with bloodied scars and pitch black eyes. Horned beasts with leather, bat-like wings. All manner of abominable monstrosities that reveled in an orgy of blood and feasted in pleasure on both the living and the dead.

They were madness made flesh. Anger incarnate. Chaotic beastial instincts that tore people apart like animals. Leaping at them like rabid jackrabbits. Crawling on walls like lizards before throwing themselves at their prey in the hundreds. Like a living wave with a thousand teeth and ate men alive.

All of these will be seen in Robin's dreams for the coming days. Nightmares that would haunt him whenever he would dare to close his eyes. Living Terrors that made Robin feel like the same scared little kid he was the day he watched his parents plunge to their death all those years ago.

The random static cuts in between scenes became a godsend for Robin. The video noise that once the cause of annoyance or headaches for the young Boy Wonder ironically became moments of comfort that gave him some form of respite before being thrown into another random terror. Each being worse than the one before it.

He wanted to look away. He wanted to rip the Helmet from his head and spare himself but his strength eluded him. His body was not his own. In his fear, he became petrified from the horrors he forced to witness. Forced to watch every warped monstrosity who committed acts that defies imagination. Forced to watch every blood curdling and stomach churning engagements of brutal violence that left blasted corpses in their wake. The lattermost of which were committed by the Arbitrator himself.

The Arbitrator and his fellow soldiers were almost no different. Each man next to him fought like like men possessed. Despite this, the stormtroopers kept fighting with iron discipline and fanatic fervour. They sang hymns and chanting what appears to sound like prayers in their Latin tongue. All the while unleashing endless volleys of gunfire at an endless sea of enemies. Obliterating scores of demons but at a high cost of their own dwindling numbers.

Being on the front row seat of the Arbitrator's eyes, Robin was foced to bear witness to his fanatical fervour in more detail than his fellow comrades. His hatred of the demons were paramount in every chaotic scene. No matter how large, fearsome, or small, he did not hesitate to engage them. No matter the damage, no matter the injuries he sustained, the man would simply keep on going as though rage itself was the only thing keeping him alive. That, and the combat drugs he kept injecting himself in between brief respites.

He would kill demons in both the most practical, such as using firearms and melee weapons, as well as in creatively brutal ways, such as decapitating heads on doorways, ripping out wings, impaling them with their own horns, or grinding faces on glass windows. Scenes that were sometimes too much for Robin's taste in brutality.

XXXXXXXXX

"Raptor!" A stormtrooper cried the moment a massive winged creature materialised itself from a pillar of black smoke and flames. Like a devil of old.

This devil made itself more demonic than its other fellow demons from this entrance alone. That and more formidable. He was a giant of a man. An 8 foot tall demon encased in a similar armor as the statues Robin saw from what felt like a distant memory from what he has come to see. Only this clawed and winged creature was a bastardisation of the nobility and beauty those statues represented.

What with its spiked burning armor, tattered winged cape, and from the monstrous black horned helm that spewed smoke and ash. Aspects of which reminded Robin of the Batman after getting blasted by the Scarecrow's fear toxin. Especially the plain terror that it unleashed to its petrified audience.

Too scared to run or let alone shoot, the flying monstrocity eviscerated 3 men with one swipe of its long jagged claws and impaled one more with a stab from the claws from its other arm. Another 4 were sliced to mincemeat in quick succession. Two of those were its fellow demons who had the misfortune of getting in its way.

The Night Lord was intoxicated by bloodlust in its rampage. Cutting and slashing everything and everyone in its path. Regardless of its victims were friend or foe.

" _No. Worse. A Night Lord."_ The Arbitrator snarled as he shoved a stormtrooper out of his way.

The Arbitrator approached the beast without losing a beat in his steps. A sight that Robin couldn't help but admire given the man's fearlessness. Especially after seeing the massive creature finish off its last victim by ripping out a woman's spine with her head. With nothing left to kill, the devil then set its sights on them.

" _How about you deal with (_ **static)** _one who can take hit?"_ The Arbitrator said with a cock of his shotgun.

" _ **I'll tear the flesh from your bones!"**_ The Night Lord cried. Its screaming voice barely made its audio inaudible.

" _By the Throne! It speaks!"_ The Arbitrator mocked. " _Now go tell your traitorous father in the h(_ **static)** _who sent you!"_

" **GROOOOOOAAAAAA—"** the Night Lord's roar was cut short by the Arbitrator who shot it with a headfull of lead.

The Demon's armor was thick however and all the Arbitrator accomplished was making it angrier. Not that it stopped the man in his assault. Again and again, the Arbitrator shot the Night Lord in the head unperturbed as he advanced until the monster had enough and charged towards him with a loud bang. Leaving trails of purple fire that burnt the corpses behind it to ash in its wake.

At the same time, the Arbitrator grabbed a nearby corpse and threw it at the incoming Night Lord. It did little to halt the Demon's charge as it easily ripped it to bloody ribbons. It did however gave the Arbitrator an opening to exploit.

He ducked low and barely dodged the Demon's massve claws. The corpse's blood mist was helpful in allowing the Arbitrator to get close to the Night Lord for a point blank shot. This gave him and Robin an up close and face to face look at their enemy. A horrible, tar spouting, snarling, and yellow eyed creature with a burnt and tortured face that spine-chillingly looked at him from behind its shattered horned helmet.

* * *

The video stopped there for Robin as the helmet was pulled out from his head. With the Night Lord's face still fresh in his mind, Robin couldn't help but scream and fell of the seat when he came face to face with the Batman who looked anything but happy at him. He glowered at him with his infamous glare and casted a great shadow over Robin that made the entire cave chillier than what it was from before.

"What is this?" The Batman held the helmet out. "What did you do?"

"I…uhhhh. I got the helmet working? Haha." Robin sheepishly said as he patted the dust off of his feet..

He was expecting the Batman to give him praise or thank him for a job well done, but the man said nothing and simply made his way to the computer without another word. Not that Robin expected him to but a kid can be painfully optimistic sometimes. The fact that the Batman hasn't dismissed him het was also taken as a good sign.

"So." The Batman said.

"Yes!?" Robin went next to him in a blink.

"What did you find out?" The Batman asked while he finished re-attaching the helmet back to the computer.

With a press of a few button and a few mouse-clicks, the images and scenes Robin watched from earlier materialized in the computer screen. Most were still corrupted by the faulty memory card but some appeared in good condition to be seen. There were even some images that Robin missed given the file's erratic nature. Like a small altar that the Arbitrator made for himself, an insect like creature in a red robe and numerous appendages, and a small collection of medals that the man kept in a small silver box.

"Robin." The Batman repeated himself.

"Oh, right." Robin turned to his father.

While he tried digesting the storm of information from what he saw. Even then he was not so sure about who the man was but Brice was waiting on an answer and he expected to get himself into trouble if he didn't have anything to show for stepping out of line.

"The Arbitrator. Yeah." Robin scrambled for an answer. Buying himself time for a more coherent answer. "Well he's. Complicated."

"Complicated." The Batman said while his eyes were still glued on the screen. "Hmmmm."

"Yup. He's a fighter, I'll give you that. A stubborn one too. Very brave. Fearless in more ways that I can say. He really is something."

"That so?"

"He's kinda reminds be a bit of you, Bruce."

Those words must have struck a chord in Bruce. The man left the computer in a flash and hurriedly walked off. Robin quickly swallowed his words and regretted blurting it out.

"Wait!" Robin called out. "I didn't mean it like that, Bruce!"

"To the Batmobile. Now." The Batman called out from behind him.

"What?" Robin asked with slight relief. "Why?"

One of the computer screens held the answer. And seeing it was enough for Robin to chase after the Batman in due haste. Barely a second passed before the tires of the Batmobile screeched its way out into the world.

Amidst the myriad of images that were filling up in every screen of the Batcave's main computer, the one the two crimefighters saw was a tiny page. A page that showed live camera recordings of a room Gotham General Hospital. The same room Robin saw from earlier that had the Heavily bandaged Arbitrator soundly recovering while handcuffed to a gurney.

Only this time it had the Arbitrator awaken from his slumber and was in the middle of breaking the good doctor Leslie's arm.

XXXXXXX

"Wot…d'you tink…yo'r doin. Med'kay?" He asked. The venom in his tone evident despite his muffled mouth from all those bandages covering his entire face save for that mechanical red eye of his.

"I...I…" Leslie scrambled for an excuse.

Her patient's heart monitor didn't give her any warning. It didn't spike nor did it drop in any way the entire time she was in that room. Whether this meant that he was awake this entire time, watched her entire tirade, and bore witness her murderous intention, or that she was dealing with an unhinged psychopath who had full control his heartbeat.

Leslie didn't know which was worse. What she did know was that she was terrified. So much so that she couldn't even find the voice to scream.

"Speek…" Mateus growled. His grip on you slowly tightened.

"T-there a-are police. Police outside." Leslie said. Desperate for him to let go. "I…I'll…sc-scream."

"Try..." He challenged.

Leslie wanted to. Out of agony, out of fear, or for help, the reason didn't matter. All she wanted to do was scream just for the sake of screaming. She gasped and she tried but not a sound slipped out of her lips. She was petrified. Especially not when that red eye was beaming at her the entire time.

Whether he knew this or not, her patient never gave her a chance. He squeezed tighter to the point that Leslie could feel her bones bruising from under her skin. Crushing her veins to the point that her hand began feeling numb and turn snow white.

Try as she might to pull herself off from the snake-like grip, the concrete hand would not budge an inch despite the broken bones under those bandages. Her pain and her terror made her strength leave her. Abandoning her to the mercy of what she could only call, a monster.

"Speak…" He repeated with the same cold voice.

"I-I was try-trying to." Leslie tried to speak. This was made more difficult amidst her pain, her fear, and her guilt. "Pull the plug! I was…I was try…TRYING…ow…t-to kill you."

Her patient must have been satisfied by her answer as he loosened his grip but kept her in his grasp. He allowed Leslie to collapse on the ground with her head on her knees. There he watched her bury her face in her palm and wept for reasons he did not care for.

Not that he gave her much time to grieve as he pulled her upright. Forcing her to gaze once more upon her horrible eye.

"W's dat. So. 'ard?" He asked dryly before violently pulling her close to his gurney.

There he released her. Her hand was at last her own once more. For a split second, she expected reprieve . She was about to say thank you to him when her patient abruptly grasped her hair tightly and slammed her face on the rails of his bed. An act that left her in a daze and gave her a warm taste of blood running out of her mouth.

Leslie found blood spilling out from her mouth with a piece of her tooth cluttering on the freshly waxed floor. Next to that mess, she found her glasses with a massive crack on its lens and the left temple bent backwards.

"You're a bastard." Leslie snarled.

"Yer…a mer'drer."

Leslie could tell that he was smiling - or at least was trying to smile – under those thick layers of bandage. True or not, his words were a hot knife that was stabbing her deep in the heart.

"I've never killed a soul in my life." Leslie quickly denied.

Much to her chagrin, her patient had a dark sense of humor and simply motioned to the life-support plug next to him. Cruelly hanging her guilt in front of her face. Suffocating her with guilt that choked her white. Pressing on a burden that she could not hoped to carry.

"I was angry." Leslie said as she tried to make sense of her emotions. "I…I was furious at. I-I was-"

"Hoo'd…ay'kil?" He abruptly asked with a mocking tone. "Frend? L'ver? S'mwon…'mportn't?"

Leslie couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was almost as though he was brushing off all those deaths like they were nothing. Like _their_ deaths and what they meant to her and this coty were like nothing. Like he was mocking them for all they stood for. That was her final straw.

"Thomas and Martha Wayne!" Leslie found herself shouting in between heavy sobbing breaths. "Thomas! And Martha Wayne!"

These must have been names that her patuent was all too familiar with. It must have affected him ina way since his mind appeared to be elsewhere. As shown when he finally released her from his convicting grip. Leslie was quick to step back away from the man. Black bruises marred her arm but at least she was finally free from the burden of some of the pain that troubled her that entire night.

Slowly, he raised himself upright in the bed. He turned his face away from her. Instead spent it on empty corner in the room as though he was deep in thought or regret. An act that Leslie was thankful for since it spared her from her patient's uncomfortable bright red eye that made the entire conversation feel like it was an intense interrogation.

The blue morning light crawled its way to the window and bathed the both of them with light. Somewhat poetic in Leslie's case since she saw this as somewhat like an act of shedding light to the whole thing. This maybe perhaps be a means of closure for the both of them.

"G't. me…out." He growled.

"I beg your pardon?" Leslie asked.

"Git! Me! Owt! **Now**!" He shouted as he began pulling on his handcuffs on the bed's rails. The pain he struggled with to say those words showed Leslie his desperation.

The sudden clamor from outside made Leslie turn away from her panicking ward.

"Free! Me! Harlot!" He screamed but fell to deaf ears.

Leslie's attention quickly turneed to chaotic shouting and abrupt gunfire that erupted outside. An ensuing fight that went silent only after a few seconds. Seconds after the sound of bloody viscera, the scraping of blades, and the struggling of dying souls breathed their last were made behind those thin walls. Sounds that she couldn't bear to hear nor believe as she held her hand over her hand in shock.

She held her breath the entire time within those few seconds. Seconds that felt like an hour. The same could be said for the silence that followed. A silence that she had hoped would remain until the door burst open to reveal a curious looking character.

It was a skinny middle aged man with long gangly arms that held steel pipe and a rusty shiv. Both were fresh with dripping blood. He was a filthy man in a tattered coat and dishevelled clothes. A rancid vagrant that burned Leslie's nose just by looking at him. A sewer rat with bulging boils and growimg sores and looked at the two of them like a they were a long awaited meal.

"AAAAAAWOOOOOOOOAAAAHHH!" The vagrant howled as he jumped towards Leslie and her patient with his rusty knife.

* * *

A/N: an iPad is not a good exchange for a laptop.

Hope you enjoyed. The next one will be killer.


End file.
